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ALTHOUGH  some  pieces  of  the  religious  poetry 
of  the  age  of  Queen  Elizabeth  have  been  often 
reprinted,  its  great  variety  and  extent  are  known 
only  to  those  who  have  made  this  department  of 
literature  their  study.  The  object  of  this  selection 
is  to  present  to  the  members  of  the  Parker  So 
ciety  specimens  of  the  authors  of  that  age  who 
wrote  sacred  poetry :  and  it  is  hoped  that  the 
design  is  satisfactorily  accomplished  as  far  as  can 
be  expected  in  such  a  work. 

In  making  the  selection  the  Editor  has  kept 
in  view  the  object  for  which  the  Parker  Society 
was  founded ;  that  of  exhibiting  the  principles  of 
the  Reformation,  by  the  republication  of  the  works 
of  the  Reformers,  and  their  immediate  successors; 
and  it  has  been  his  aim  to  select  pieces  which  are 
in  accordance  with  those  principles.  In  one  or 
two  instances,  where  the  poems  related  to  the 
Reformation,  they  have  been  printed  entire ;  and 
the  whole  may  be  considered  as  an  illustration 
of  some  of  the  results  which  the  English  Re- 


formation  produced  on  the  literature  of  the  age, 
and  in  the  minds  of  the  people  at  large. 

Prefixed  are  very  brief  biographical  notices 
of  the  writers  in  this  collection.  Of  many  of 
them  so  little  is  known,  that  the  editor  is  only 
able  to  mention  their  names  and  the  titles  of 
their  books. 

It  was  found  difficult  to  draw  an  exact  line  for 
guidance  as  to  the  writers  to  be  included  in  the 
selection,  from  the  uncertainty  as  to  the  precise 
period  when  some  of  the  pieces  were  published. 
The  desire  has  been  to  present  poetry  of  the  reign 
of  Queen  Elizabeth;  but  there  are  a  few  poems 
which  may  have  first  appeared  a  few  years  later. 
It  has  not  been  thought  advisable  to  enter  into 
disquisitions  on  the  merits  and  characters  of  these 
writers.  In  the  age  in  which  they  wrote,  poetry 
was  too  often  supposed  to  consist  in  the  form  rather 
than  in  the  substance,  and  in  the  rhythm  rather 
than  in  the  matter.  Notwithstanding,  the  reader 
will  find  very  much  in  these  pages  that  may  be 
recognised  as  true  poetry ;  while  throughout  the 
whole  he  will  discern  a  purity  of  sentiment,  with 
a  devotional  feeling  which  were  characteristics  of 
the  age  to  which  the  volumes  refer,  and  he  will 
often  find  truly  poetic  ideas  and  vigorous  thoughts 
beneath  a  rugged  and  even  uncouth  exterior. 


The  old  spelling  has  been  retained,  so  that 
these  pieces  are  literal  reprints,  except  where 
obvious  errors  of  the  press  have  been  corrected. 
Some  obsolete  words  are  explained  in  a  Glossary 
at  the  end. 

It  was  needful,  on  account  of  the  rhyme  and 
rhythm,  to  retain  the  original  spelling  and  struc 
ture  of  the  words;  the  Council  of  the  Parker 
Society  have  done  this  in  the  present  instance 
the  more  willingly,  as  it  strongly  confirms  the 
propriety  of  the  course  they  deemed  it  right  to 
pursue  with  the  prose  writings  of  the  Reformers, 
namely,  to  adopt  a  regular  orthography,  con 
formed  to  the  usage  of  the  present  day,  while 
the  original  words  have  been  strictly  preserved. 

The  selection  has  been  derived  from  public 
and  private  libraries.  The  thanks  of  the  Council 
of  the  Parker  Society  and  of  the  editor  are  due 
to  several  gentlemen  who  have  aided  them  in 
their  design ;  but  more  especially  to  William 
Henry  Miller,  Esq.,  whose  library  in  this  depart 
ment  of  English  poetry  is  the  richest  in  the 
kingdom.  To  Mr.  Miller's  kindness  they  are  in 
debted  for  extracts  from  many  rare  volumes  in 
his  possession,  several  of  which  could  not  be  met 
with  elsewhere,  and  seem  to  be  unknown  to  biblio 
graphers.  Mention  must  also  be  made  of  the  kind- 


ness  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Corser,  who  obligingly 
contributed  extracts  from  several  rare  volumes 
in  his  valuable  library  of  Elizabethan  poetry. 

The  best  acknowledgements  of  the  Council 
are  also  due  to  Mr.  Pickering,  Mr.  Thorpe,  Mr. 
Lilly,  Mr.  Stewart,  and  other  booksellers,  and 
especially  to  Mr.  Rodd,  for  the  ready  kindness 
with  which  they  have  assisted  the  editor  in  his 
inquiries,  and  have  in  several  instances  allowed 
him  access  to  rare  volumes  in  their  possession. 

E.   F. 


December  30,  1845. 




Biographical  Notices    ix 

1.  Queen  Elizabeth  1 

II.          Archbishop  Parker 2 

III.  Edmund  Spenser 6 

IV.  George  Gascoigne  33 

V.          Barnaby  Barnes 41 

VI.  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  &  the  Countess  of  Pembroke  53 

VII.       Sir  John  Davies  86 

VIII.      Fulke  Greville,  Lord  Brooke    107 

IX.  Sir  John  Harington 115 

X.  Michael  Drayton  116 

XI.  Henry  Lok 136 

XII.        William  Hunnis    143 

XIII.       Thomas  Bryce  161 

XIV.  Sir  Nicholas  Breton 178 

XV.  John  Hall,  M.D 197 

XVI.  Geffrey  Whitney   203 

XVII.  Humphrey  Gifford 211 

XVIII.  William  Byrd     222 

XIX.      Anthony  Munday    226 

XX.       Sir  Walter  Raleigh 233 

XXI.      Abraham  Fraunce 237 

XXII.     John  Davies    240 

XXIII.    Thomas  Howell 256 

XXIV.  Thomas  Tusser  257 

XXV.  Richard  Vennard 264 

XXVI.  G.  C 266 

XXVII.  J.  Rhodes  267 

XXVIII.  Francis  Kinwelmersh  291 

XXIX.  Richard  Edwardes    295 

XXX.  Arthur  Bourcher  297 


XXXI.  D.Sand   299 

XXXII.  LordVaux 302 

XXXIII.  Richard  Hill   305 

XXXIV.  T.  Bastard  306 

XXXV.  G.  Gaske 307 

XXXVI.  Candish 308 

XXXVII.  William  Bvttes  309 

;    XXXVIII.  Anonymous 310 

XXXIX.   William  Samuel 312 

XL.  T.  Marshall 313 

XLI.  M.  Thorn 314 

XLII.  Thomas  Scott -315 

XLIII.  Walter  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex 316 

XLIV.  Francis  Davison  -.318 

XLV.  Christopher  Davison  332 

XLVI.  Joseph  Bryan 333 

XLVII.  Richard  Gipps 337 

XLVIII.  T.Carey    338 

XLIX.  George  Whetstone  -.339 

L.  Dudley  Fenner    341 

LI.  Stephen  Gosson    344 

LII.  Anonymous  346 

LIII.  Samuel  Rowlands    374 

LIV.  E.  W 358 

LV.  Ann  Dowriche ••  359 

LVI.  John  Markham    •  361 

LVII.  John  Davies 363 

LVIII.  Richard  Robinson  -364 

LIX.  Edward  Hake  368 

LX.  Roger  Cotton    

LXI.  Leonard  Stauely  376 

LXII.  William  Warner 

LXIII.  Anonymous  381 

LXIV.  Timothy  Kendall 384 

LXV.  Peter  Pett 

LXVI.  John  Pits  387 

LXVII.  G.  B 388 

LXVIII.   Stephen  Batman 389 




William  Broxup  



Barnaby  Googe  



Francis  Sabie  



Andrew  Willet  






Henry  Willobie  



Samuel  Daniel   



R.  D  



T.  Proctor   



Thomas  Churchyard  



Michael  Cosowarth    



G.  Ellis    



Elizabeth  Grymeston  



Thomas  Lloyd    



Thomas  Drant  



R.  Thacker  












Henry  Dod  



James  Yates   



A.  W  






John  Bodenham  



John  Norden  



Bartholomew  Chappell    



Henoch  Clapham  



Christopher  Fetherstone  



John  Marbeck    



Thomas  Gressop    



H.  C  



Charles  Best  






Anthony  Fletcher  



Robert  Holland  






Thomas  Sternhold  



W.  P  




CVII.        John  Hopkins 485 

CVIII.       Thomas  Norton 487 

CIX.         William  Whittingham 489 

CX.  William  Kethe 492 

CXI.          Robert  Wisdom -  493 

CXII.        John  Pullain 495 

CXIII         John  Mardley 497 

CXIV.        Anonymous 499 

CXV.         T.  B 501 

CXVL        D.  Cox 503 

CXVII.       E.  G 505 

CXVIII.      Anonymous 506 

CXIX.        W.  A 508 

CXX.         L.  Ramsey 511 

CXXI.        W.  Elderton 512 

CXXII.      Robert  Burdet  514 

CXXIII.     Jud  Smith 516 

CXXIV.     Gregory  Scott    520 

CXXV,      Christopher  Lever 523 

CXXVI.     John  Phillip  525 

CXXVII.    Thomas  Middleton   534 

CXXVIII.    John  Awdelie    540 

CXXIX.      Edward  Wollay    541 

CXXX.       William  Gibson    542 

CXXXI.     Anthony  Nixon 543 

CXXXII.     Abraham  Fleming    645 

CXXXI1I.    Edmond  Eluiden 547 

CXXXIV.    Anonymous 549 

CXXXV.     Thomas  Nelson 551 

CXXXVI.    Thomas  Newton   553 

CXXXVII.  Nicholas  Boweman  554 

Memorial  of  Queen  Elizabeth  (cxxxi.)      556 

Glossary  557 





QUEEN  ELIZABETH  occasionally  wrote  sacred  poetry. 
"Two  little  anthems,  or  things  in  metre  of  hir  majes 
tic,"  were  licensed  to  her  printer  in  1578  ;  and  a  copy 
of  the  14th  Psalm  from  her  pen  has  been  preserved. 
This  literary  curiosity  occurs  at  the  end  of  a  book, 
entitled  "A  godly  Medytacyon  of  the  Christian  Sowle, 
etc.  compyled  in  Frenche,  by  Lady  Margarete,  Quene 
of  Naverre."  This  psalm  is  reprinted  in  Park's 
edition  of  "  The  Royal  and  Noble  Authors  of  Great 
Britain,"  and  is  the  only  fragment  of  her  poetical 
remains  adapted  to  these  pages. 


THIS  eminent  prelate  of  the  English  Protestant 
Church  was  a  native  of  the  city  of  Norwich.  He  was 
born  in  1504,  and  was  educated  in  Corpus  Christi 
College,  Cambridge.  After  he  had  taken  orders,  and 
during  the  reigns  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Edward  VI.,  he 
had  various  preferments  bestowed  upon  him :  of  these 
he  was  deprived  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary ;  but 
when  Elizabeth  ascended  the  throne,  he  was  con 
secrated  archbishop  of  Canterbury.  He  died  in  1575. 
Before  Archbishop  Parker  became  primate,  he 
executed  a  metrical  version  of  the  entire  Psalter, 
either,  as  Warton  remarks,  "  for  the  private  amuse- 


ment  and  exercise  of  his  religious  exile,  or  that  the 
people,  whose  predilection  for  psalmody  could  not  be 
suppressed,  might  at  least  be  furnished  with  a  rational 
and  proper  translation."  This  work  was  subsequently 
printed  without  date  or  translator's  name,  under  the 
title  of  "  The  whole  Psalter  translated  into  English 
Metre,  which  contayneth  an  hundredth  and  fifty 
Psalmes.  The  first  Quinquagene.  Cum  gratia  et 
privelegio  Regis  Majestatis  per  decennuim.  The 
other  two  quinquagenes  are  indicated  by  halt  titles. 
Warton  states  that  this  translation  was  never  pub 
lished;  and  Strype  says  that  he  could  never  get  a 
sight  of  it  from  its  great  scarcity.  There  are,  how 
ever  copies  extant  in  the  Bodleian  Library,  the  Bri 
tish  'Museum,  and  Lambeth  Palace  Library,  beside 
others  in  private  libraries. 


EDMUND  SPENSER  was  born  in  East  Smithfield  about 
the  year  1553.  In  1569  he  was  admitted  as  a  sizar  of 
Pembroke  Hall  in  the  University  of  Cambridge,  and 
he  attained  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  in  1576.  In 
after  life  he  became  secretary  to  Arthur  Lord  Gray 
of  Wilton,  lord  deputy  of  Ireland,  who  appears  to 
have  been  his  firm  and  bountiful  patron;  for  the  poet 
terms  him  "  the  pillar  of  his  life."  The  chief  occu 
pation  of  Spenser's  life,  however,  was  literature,  to 
which  he  was  ardently  attached  to  the  day  ot  his 
death,  January  16,  1598— 9. 

The  chief  work  of  Spenser  is  his  "  Faerie  Queen, 
the  object  of  which  is  "to  represent  all  the  moral 
virtues,  assigning  to  every  virtue  a  knight,  to  be  the 
patron  and  defender  of  the  same;  in  whose  actions 
the  feats  of  arms  and  chivalry,  the  operations  ot  that 
virtue  whereof  he  is  the  protector,  are  to  be  expressed, 
and  the  vices  and  unruly  appetites  that  oppose  them 
selves  against  the  same  are  to  be  beaten  down  and 
overcome."  The  "  Faerie  Queen"  scarcely  admits  of 
extract,  and  Spenser  is  introduced  into  these  pages 


chiefly  as  the  author  of  two  beautiful  hymns  on 
Heavenly  Love  and  Heavenly  Beauty.  But  the 
claims  of  Spenser  to  the  title  of  Sacred  Poet  may  be 
estimated  as  much  by  the  titles  of  poetical  treasures 
lost,  as  by  those  we  possess.  He  wrote  paraphrases 
of  "Ecclesiastes/'andof  the  "Canticum  Canticorum;" 
the  "  Hours  of  our  Lord,"  the  "  Sacrifice  of  a  Sin 
ner,"  and  the  "  Seven  Penitential  Psalms,"  which  are 
irretrievably  lost  to  posterity. 


THE  time  and  place  of  the  birth  of  this  old  English 
poet  are  unknown.  His  occupation  was  the  profession 
of  arms,  and  he  was  likewise  a  follower  of  the  court 
of  Elizabeth :  we  find  that  he  accompanied  the  queen 
in  one  of  her  progresses.  His  poems  are  numerous, 
and  of  a  miscellaneous  character.  In  republishing 
his  works  Gascoigne  thought  proper  to  deprecate 
censure  on  the  poetical  levities  of  his  youth;  and  the 
preface  is  thus  addressed :  "To  the  reuerende  deuines 
unto  whom  these  posies  shall  happen  to  be  presented, 
George  Gascoigne,  Esquire,  professing  armes  in  defence 
of  God's  trueth,  wisheth  quiet  in  conscience,  and  all 
consolation  in  Christ  Jesus."  The  religious  poems  of 
Gascoigne  were  evidently  written  in  what  he  calls  his 
"  middle  age,"  when  he  saAv  and  lamented  the  follies 
of  his  youth.  The  original  editions  of  his  poems  are 
among  the  rarest  books  in  the  English  language. 
Gascoigne  died  in  a  religious,  calm,  and  happy  frame 
of  mind,  in  1577. 


BARNABY  BARNES  was  a  younger  son  of  Dr.  Richard 
Barnes,  bishop  of  Durham.  He  was  born  in  York 
shire,  about  the  year  1569,  and  at  the  age  of  seventeen 
he  became  a  student  of  Brasenose  College,  Oxford. 


He  left  the  university  without  a  degree,  and  Wood 
says  that  he  knew  not  what  became  of  him  after 
wards.  It  appears,  however,  that  in  1595  he  accom 
panied  a  military  expedition  into  Normandy,  to  aid 
the  king  of  France,  in  which  country  he  remained 
until  1594.  Barnes  wrote  "A  Divine  Centurie  of 
Spiritual  Sonnets,"  which  work  issued  from  the  press 
in  1595. 



were  the  offspring  of  Sir  Henry  Sidney,  of  Penshurst, 
in  Kent.  Sir  Philip  was  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
characters  of  his  times.  His  popularity  was  great 
both  at  home  and  abroad.  In  his  youth  he  attended 
both  the  universities ;  and  when  his  education  was 
completed,  he  visited  different  foreign  countries.  He 
spent  a  year  in  Italy,  and  on  his  return  he  was  taken 
into  favour  by  Queen  Elizabeth.  In  1586,  Sir  Philip 
accompanied  a  military  force  sent  from  England  to 
assist  the  people  of  the  Netherlands  in  throwing  off 
the  yoke  of  Spain..  During  this  expedition  he  lost 
his  life  in  a  skirmish  near  Zutphen. 

In  this  selection  Sir  Philip  Sidney  is  introduced, 
together  with  his  sister  the  Countess  of  Pembroke,  as 
the  joint  authors  of  "  The  Psalmes  of  David,  translated 
into  divers  and  sundry  kindes  of  verse,  more  rare  and 
excellent,  for  the  method  and  varietie,  than  ever  yet 
hath  been  done  in  English."  Manuscript  copies  of  this 
version  of  the  Psalms  of  David  are  to  be  found  in  the 
Bodleian  Library,  Oxford,  and  in  the  libraries  of  two 
or  three  private  individuals.  It  is  not  certain  which 
portions  were  written  by  Sir  Philip  and  which  by  the 
countess;  but  the  title-page  of  one  of  the  MSS.  in  the 
Bodleian  Library  states  that  the  version  was  "begun 
by  the  noble  and  learned  gent,  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  Knt. 
and  finished  by  the  Right  Honorable  the  Countess  of 
Pembroke,  his  sister." 




SIB  JOHN  DAVIES,  an  eminent  lawyer,  was  born  in 
1570,  and  died  in  162G.  His  "Nosce  Teipsum,  or  The 
Soul  of  Man  and  the  Immortality  thereof,"  from 
which  the  extracts  in  this  volume  are  taken,  first 
appeared  in  1599,  and  it  was  dedicated  to  Queen 


SIR  FULKE  GREVILLE,  afterwards  LORD  BROOKE,  and 
on  whose  monument  it  is  inscribed  that  he  was 
"Servant  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  counsellor  to  King 
James,  and  friend  to  Sir  Philip  Sidney,"  was  the 
author  of  several  works,  among  which  was  one  enti 
tled  "  Caelia,"  containing  CIX  Sonnets,  from  whence 
those  under  his  name  are  derived. 


SIR  JOHN  HARINGTON  was  one  of  the  most  noted 
characters  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  as  a  courtier  and 
a  man  of  wit.  His  poems  are  chiefly  of  a  secular 
character ;  but  some  few  of  his  minor  pieces  have  a 
moral  and  religious  tendency,  and  among  them  are  a 
few  versions  of  selected  psalms. 


THIS  poet  was  born  in  1563,  and  died  in  1631.  He 
enjoyed  a  high  degree  of  popularity  during  his  long 
life,  and  left  a  name  still  regarded  with  respect.  His 
works  are  numerous,  but  the  only  volumes  offering 



extracts  suitable  to  these  pages,  written  in  the  age 
of  Elizabeth,  are  "Moyses  in  his  Map  of  Miracles, 
and  "The  Harmonie  of  the  Church:  containing,  The 
spiritual  songes  and  holy  hymnes  of  godly  men,  patri- 
arkes  and  prophets  ;  all  sweetly  sounding  to  the 
aS  glVof  the  Highest."  This  latter  work 

pse  a  . 

was  published  in  1591,  and  is  not  included  m  the 

editions  of  Drayton's  collected  poems. 


OF  this  author  little  is  known,  though  lie  appears  to 
have  been  connected  with  the  court  of  Elizabeth,  to 
whom  he  dedicated  some  of  his  pieces,  comprising 
two  hundred  sonnets,  treating  of  meditation,  humilia 
tion,   prayer,  comfort,  joy,  and  thanksgiving      His 
name  occurs  to  a  small  book  in  the  Bodleian  Library, 
entitled   "Sundry  Psalms  of  Dauid  translated  into 
verse,  as  briefly  and  significantly  as  the  scope  of  the 
text  will  suffer."     These  Psalms  are  included  in  the 
very  rare  work  which  he  published  in  1597,  entitled 
"  Ecclesiastes,  otherwise  called  the  Preacher.     Con 
taining  Salomon's  Sermons  or  Commentaries-as  it 
may  probably  be  collected-vpon  the  49  Psalme  of 
Dauid  his  father.     Compendiously  abridged,  and  also 
paraphrastically  dilated  in  English  poesie    according 
to  the  analogic  of  Scripture,  and  consent  of  the  most 
approued  writers  thereof.     Composed  by  H.  L.,  gen 
tleman     Whereunto  are  annexed  sundne  Sonnets  of 
Christian  Passions  heretofore  printed,  and  now  cor 
rected  and  augmented  with  other  affectionate  Sonnets 
of  the  same  author's."     In  the  whole  there  are  320 
sonnets  in  the  volume  ;  those  on  "  sundrie  Christian 
Passions"  comprising  200  of  that  number. 




HUNNIS  was  a  gentleman  of  the  Royal  Chapel  under 
Edward  the  Sixth,  and  afterwards  chapel-master  to 
Queen  Elizabeth.  He  was  the  author  of  "  Certayne 
Psalmes  chosen  out  of  the  Psalter  of  David,  and 
drawen  forth  into  English  metre ;"  "  A  Handfull  of 
Honeysuckles;"  "A  Hive  full  of  Honey;"  "  Various 
Paraphrases  of  portions  of  Scripture  History ;"  and 
"  Seven  Sobs  of  a  Sorrowful  Soule  for  Sinne,  compre 
hending  those  Seven  Psalmes  of  the  Princelie  Prophet 
David,  commonly  called  Poenitentiall."  It  is  from 
these  various  works  that  the  extracts  in  these  pages 
are  derived. 



THOMAS  BRYCE  appears  to  have  been  a  clergyman : 
according  to  Ritson,  an  epitaph  of  "  Mr.  Bryce,  prea 
cher,"  was  licensed  to  John  Allde.  He,  however, 
escaped  the  rage  of  Queen  Mary,  and  in  1559  he  pub 
lished  "  A  Compendious  Register  in  Metre,  conteign- 
ing  the  names  and  pacient  suffryngs  of  the  membres 
of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  the  tormented  and  cruelly 
burned  within  England,  since  the  death  of  our  famous 
Kyng  of  immortall  memory  Edwarde  the  Sixte :  to 
the  entrance  and  beginnyng  of  the  raign  of  our 
Soueraigne  and  derest  lady  Elizabeth  of  England, 
Fraunce,  and  Irelande,  quene  etc." 


LITTLE  is  known  of  this  poet,  but  Bishop  Percy  says 
he  was  of  some  fame  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 
He  is  known  to  be  the  author  of  several  works,  and 
many  are  ascribed  to  him  which  appeared  anony 
mously.  Those  from  which  the  annexed  specimens  are 
derived  are  entitled  :  "  A  small  Handfull  of  Fragrant 


Flowers  gathered  out  of  the  louely  garden  of  Sacred 
Scriptures,  fit  for  any  honorable  or  worshippfull  gen 
tlewomen  to  smell  to;"  "An  Olde  Man's  Lesson;' 
"  An  excellent  Poeme  upon  the  longing  of  a  blessed 
heart :  which  loathing  the  world,  doth  long  to  be  with 
Christ ;"  "  The  Soule's  immortal!  Crown  ;  consisting 
of  seaven  glorious  graces.  1.  Virtue.  2.  Wisdome. 
3.  Love.  4.  Constancie.  5.  Patience.  6.  Humilitie. 
7.  Infiniteness  ;"  with  a  conclusion  entitled  Gloria  in 
Excelsis  Deo ;  and  a  small  volume  of  sonnets,  entitled 
"  The  Soule's  Harmony." 


DR.  HALL  was  a  celebrated  writer  in  the  age  of 
Elizabeth  on  matters  pertaining  to  anatomy  and 
chirurgy.  He  was  also  well  known,  in  his  day,  as  a 
poet.  His  chief  work,  copies  of  which  are  extremely 

1  rare,  was  published  in  1565,  under  the  title  of  "  The 
Court  of  Virtue  :  contaigning  many  Holy  or  Spretual 
Sono-s,  Sonnettes,  Psalms,  Ballets,  and  short  sentences, 
as  well  of  Holy  Scripture  as  others,  with  Musical 

;   Notes." 


GEFFREY  WHITNEY  wrote  "  A  choice  of  Emblemes, 
and  other  Devises,  for  the  moste  parte  gathered  out 
of  sundrie  writers,  Englished  and  moralized,  and 
divers  newly  devised.  A  worke  adorned  with  varietie 
of  matter,  both  pleasant  and  profitable:  wherein  those 
that  please  maye  finde  to  fit  their  fancies:  Bicause 
herein  by  the  office  of  the  eie,  and  the  eare,  the 
minde  may  reape  dooble  delight  throughe  holesome 
preceptes,  shadowed  with  pleasand  deuises :  both  fit 
for  the  vertuous,  to  their  incoraging ;  and  for  the 
wicked,  for  their  admonishing."  From  one  of  the 
emblems  in  this  volume,  which  was  printed  at  Ley- 


den  in  1586,  it  appears  that  the  author  was  a  native 
of  Cheshire,  it  being  inscribed,  "  To  my  countrimen 
of  the  Namptwiche  in  Cheshire ;"  the*  wood-cut  of 
which  represents  a  phoenix  rising  from  the  flames, 
and  the  lines  underneath  allude  to  the  rebuilding  of 
Namptwiche  after  a  dreadful  fire  which  consumed  a 
great  part  of  it  in  1593.  Each  emblem  is  illustrated 
by  a  wood-cut.  Thus  the  emblem,  having  for  its 
motto  Super  est  quod  supra  est,  which  is  here  re 
printed,  has  a  print  representing  a  pilgrim  leaving 
the  world  (a  geographical  globe)  behind,  and  travel 
ling  towards  the  symbol  of  the  divine  name  in  glory 
at  the  opposite  extremity  of  the  scene. 


THIS  author,  of  whom  nothing  seems  to  be  known  by 
biographers,  wrote  "  A  Posie  of  Gilloflowers,"  which 
was  published  in  1580. 


WILLIAM  BYRD  was  one  of  the  "  Gentlemen  of  the 
Queene's  Maiestie's  honorable  Chappell."  In  1583  he 
published  a  work  entitled  "  Medius :  Psalm  es,  Sonets, 
and  Songs  of  Sadness  and  Pietie,"  from  which  the 
following  specimens  are  derived.  In  the  original 
copies  the  poetry  is  set  to  music. 


ANTHONY  MUNDAY,  "servant  to  the  Queen's  most 
excellent  Majestic,"  published  in  1588,  "A  Banquet 
of  Daintie  Conceits.  Furnished  with  verie  delicate 
and  choyse  inuentions,  to  delight  their  mindes,  who 
take  pleasure  in  musique,  and  therewithall  to  sing 


sweete  ditties,  either  to  the  lute,  bandora,  virginalles, 
or  anie  other  instrument."  He  was  also  the  author 
of  "The  Mirrour  of  Mutibilitie,  published  in  15/9, 
which  describes  the  fall  of  princes  and  others,  as 
recorded  in  Scripture.  From  these  two  very  rare 
works  the  specimens  in  these  pages  are  transcribed. 



CONSIDERABLE  uncertainty  prevails  as  to  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh's  poetical  productions,  but  that  he  was  ca- 
pable  of  producing  poetry  of  a  very  high  order  some 
pieces  undoubtedly  written  by  him  abundantly  testily. 
Among  these  are  one  or  two  hymns  written  during  his 
imprisonment,  which  exhibit  not  only  his  genius,  but 
the  sincerity  of  his  heart  and  the  piety  of  his  feelings. 


FROUNCE  was  a  poet  of  some  note  in  the  age  of  Queen 
Elizabeth  :  but  nothing  is  known  of  him  beyond  tne 
simple  fact,  that  he  published  in  1591  a  volume  en 
titled  "The  Countesse  of  Pembroke  s  Yuychurch. 
Conteinino-  the  affectionate  life  and  vnfortunate  death 
of  Phillis  and  Amyntas:  that  in  a  pastorall;  this  m 
a  funerall;  both  in  English  hexa^f  ^J^V^* 
to  this  was  added  a  second  part,  entitled  1  he  Coun 
tesse  of  Pembroke's  Emanuel.  Conteinmg  the  Nati 
vity,  Passion,  Buriall,  and  Resurrection  of  Christ : 
together  with  certeine  Psalmes  of  Dauid :  all  in 
English  hexameters."  The  measure  in  which  Fraunce 
wrote  these  productions  was  adopted  by  his  contem 
poraries,  Sir  Philip  Sidney  and  Richard  Stanyhurst 
but  it  is  altogether  foreign  to  our  inflexible  English 
language.  Thomas  Nash  says  of  it:  ihe  hex- 
amfte/  verse  I  grant  to  be  a  ge nil *man  of  an 
ancient  house— so  is  many  an  English  beggar,— yet 

WRITERS    IN    THIS    SELECTION.         XX11I 

this  clime  of  ours  he  cannot  thrive  in  :  our  speech  is 
too  craggy  for  him  to  set  his  plough  in;  he  goes 
twitching  and  hopping  like  a  man  running  upon 
quagmires,  up  the  hill  in  one  syllable  and  down  the 
dale  in  another,  retaining  no  part  of  that  strictly 
smooth  gait  which  he  vaunts  himself  with  among  the 
Greeks  and  Latins."  The  specimen  derived  from  this 
author's  pages  will  illustrate  the  correctness  of  these 


JOHN  DAVIES — usually  called  "John  Davies  of  Here 
ford,  to  distinguish  him  from  Sir  John  Davies — was 
a  contemporary  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  His  poetical 
works  are  numerous :  consisting  of  "  Microcosmos," 
"  Summa  Totalis,  or  All  in  All,  and  the  same  for 
ever ;"  "  The  Holy  Roode,  or  Christ's  Cross :  contain 
ing  Christ  crucified,  described  in  speaking  picture;" 
"The  Muses'  Sacrifice,  or  Divine  Meditations;"  "The 
Scourge  of  Folly;"  "Humours  Heau'n  on  Earth; 
with  the  ciuil  warres  of  Death  and  Fortune;"  "  Witte's 
Pilgrimage,  by  poetical  essaies,  through  a  world  of 
Amorous  Sonnets,  Soule's  Passions,  and  other  pas 
sages,  divine,  philosophical,  and  moral:"  etc,  etc. 
From  these  various  works  the  specimens  in  this 
volume  are  derived. 


THOMAS  HOWELL  wrote  "  The  fable  of  Ouid  treting  of 
Narcissus,  translated  out  of  Latin  into  Englysh  Mytre, 
with  a  moral  thervnto,  very  pleasant  to  rede."  This 
work  was  published  in  1560,  and  the  stanzas  annexed 
to  his  name  are  extracted  from  the  moralization. 



THOMAS  TUSSER  wrote  and  published  "Fiue  Hun 
dredth  Pointes  of  good  Husbandrie."  The  first  edition 
was  published  in  1557,  entitled  "  A  Hundredth  good 
Pointes  of  Husbandrie,"  but  after  passing  through 
several  editions  it  appeared  in  1573,  in  an  enlarged 
form,  under  the  first-mentioned  title,  Tusser  died 
in  1580.  This  work  generally  is  not  suited  to  these 
pages;  but  among  the  "manie  other  matters  both 
profitable  and  not  vnpleasant  for  the  reader,"  men 
tioned  on  the  title-page,  are  two  poems  which  entitle 
the  author  to  a  place  in  this  selection. 


VENNABD  was  a  gentleman  of  Lincoln's  Inn.  He 
wrote  "A  Panegyric  on  Queen  Elizabeth ;"  "  The  true 
testimonie  of  a  faithfull  and  loyall  subject;"  and 
"  The  right  way  to  Heauen."  This  latter  work,  from 
which  our  specimen  is  derived,  was  published  in 


G.  C. 

No  mention  is  made  of  this  author  by  Ritson.  He 
wrote  "  A  Piteous  Platforme  of  an  Oppressed  Mynde 
set  downe  by  the  extreme  surmyzes  of  sundrye  dis 
tressed  meditations."  The  work  is  written  partly  in 
prose  and  partly  in  metre,  and  it  contains  versions  of 
five  Psalms. 


IN  1602  appeared  "An  Answere  to  a  Romish  Rime 
lately  printed,  and  entituled,  '  A  proper  new  Ballad, 
wherein  are  contayned  Catholike  Questions  to  the 


Protestant/  The  which  Ballad  was  put  forth  without 
date  or  day,  name  of  authour  or  printer,  libel-like, 
scattered  and  sent  abroad,  to  withdraw  the  simple 
from  the  fayth  of  Christ  vnto  the  doctrine  of  Anti 
christ,  the  pope  of  Rome.  Written  by  that  Pro 
testant  Catholike,  I.  R."  These  are  the  initials  of 
J.  Rhodes,  whose  very  rare  production  is  now  pre 
sented  to  the  reader  in  an  entire  form. 


THIS  author  was  a  member  of  Gray's  Inn,  and  he  and 
his  brother  Anthony  had  the  character  of  being  noted 
poets  in  the  age  of  Elizabeth.  They  were  the  friends 
of  George  Gascoigne.  His  poems  in  this  volume  are 
from  "  The  Paradise  of  Dayntie  Deuises,"  which  first 
appeared  in  1576. 


RICHARD  EDWARDES  was  a  native  of  Somersetshire, 
and  born  about  1523.  In  1547  he  was  a  student  of 
Christ  Church,  Oxford,  and  in  1561  he  was  con 
stituted  a  gentleman  of  the  royal  chapel  by  Queen 
Elizabeth,  and  master  of  the  singing-boys  in  that 
chapel.  In  1566  he  attended  the  queen  in  her  visit 
to  Oxford  :  he  died  in  the  same  year.  Edwardes  was 
one  of  the  principal  contributors  to  "  The  Paradise 
of  Dayntie  Deuises;"  but  only  one  of  his  poems  is 
suitable  to  these  pages. 


ARTHUR  BOURCHER  is  author  of  a  poem  entitled 
"  Golden  Precepts,"  which  appeared  in  the  edition  of 
"  The  Paradise  of  Dayntie  Deuises,"  published  in  1600. 
Previous  to  this  he  published  a  fable  of  JEsop,  versi- 


fied,  and  he  has  a  poem  to  the  reader  before  Geoffrey 
Whitney's  "Divine  Emblemes."  Beyond  this  no 
thing  is  known  of  this  author. 


D.  SAND. 

THIS  author  was  one  of  the  contributors  to  "  The 
Paradise  of  Dayntie  Deuises."  Some  identify  him 
with  Dr.  Sands,  or  Dr.  Edwyn  Sandys,  archbishop  of 
York,  he  being  the  only  known  author  of  this  name 
and  period :  but  the  identification  is  not  at  all  probable. 
Some  of  the  poems  in  the  above  collection  have  the 
initials  D.  S.  affixed  to  them,  and  they  have  been 
supposed  to  be  by  the  same  person  who  wrote  those 
to  which  D.  Sand  is  appended. 


LORD  VAUX  was  one  of  the  contributors  to  "  The 
Paradise  of  Dayntie  Deuises."  On  the  back  of  the 
title-page  to  the"  edition  published  in  1580  he  is  styled 
"the  elder,"  which  refers  to  Thomas,  second  Lord 
Vaux,  who  was  born  in  1510.  Ritson  and  others 
have  suggested,  however,  that  William,  third  Lord 
Vaux,  who  died  in  1595,  was  a  joint  contributor  with 
his  father  to  that  collection.  The  pieces  ascribed  to 
Lord  Vaux  are  numerous. 


A  WRITER  of  whom  nothing  is  known  beyond  the  fact, 
that  he  was  one  of  the  contributors  to  "  The  Paradise 
of  Dayntie  Deuises."  Yet  Webbe  in  his  "  Discourse 
of  English  Poetrie,"  published  in  1586,  speaks  of  his 
skill  in  many  pretty  and  learned  works,  as  he  does 
also  of  D.  Sands. 



WROTE,  and  published  in  1598,  "  Chrestoleros :  seven 
bookes  of  Epigrames."  Many  of  these  epigrams  are 
addressed  to  the  celebrated  men  living  in  the  age 
of  Elizabeth. 



ONE  of  the  contributors  to  "  The  Paradise  of  Dayntie 
Deuises."  Nothing  is  known  concerning  him  :  Park 
thinks  he  may  be  identified  with*  George  Gascoigne. 



PROBABLY  Thomas  Cavendish,  Esq.  the  celebrated 
navigator,  to  whom  Robert  Parke  dedicated  his  trans 
lation  from  the  Spanish  of  "  The  Historic  of  the  great 
and  mightie  kingdome  of  China,"  which  was  pub 
lished  in  1588.  Candish  was  one  of  the  contributors 
to  "  The  Paradise  of  Dayntie  Deuises." 


WILLIAM  BVTTES,  of  whom  the  editor  has  not  met 
with  any  account,  wrote  "  A  Booke  of  Epitaphes,"  etc. 
which  was  published  in  1583. 


THE  contribution  of  an  unknown  writer  to  "The 
Paradise  of  Dayntie  Deuises." 



IN  1569  appeared  a  work  entitled  "  An  Abridgement 
of  all  the  Canonical  Books  of  the  Olde  Testament., 
written  in  Sternhold's  meter  by  W.  Samuel,  Minister." 
Beyond  this  nothing  is  known  of  its  author. 


ONE  of  the  writers  in  the   "  Paradise  of  Dayntie 
'    Deuises." 


ONE  of  the  contributors  to  the  "  Paradise  of  Dayntie 



SCOTT  wrote  "  Four  Paradoxes  :  of  Arte ;  of  Lawe  ; 
of  Warre ;  of  Seruice."  This  work,  which  was  pub 
lished  in  1602,  was  dedicated  to  the  Marquess  of 
Northampton.  No  mention  is  made  of  this  author 
by  Ritson. 


WALTER  DEVEREUX,  Earl  of  Essex,  distinguished  by 
his  suppression  of  a  rebellion  in  Ireland,  and  as  the 
father  of  Robert  Earl  of  Essex,  has  been  pointed  out 
as  the  author  of  "  A  godly  and  virtuous  Song,"  ex 
tant  in  the  Sloane  MSS.  No.  1898.  This  is  printed 
in  the  "  Paradise  of  Dayntie  Deuises,"  having  for  its 
title  "  The  Complaint  of  a  Sinner,"  and  with  the 
initials  F.  K.  affixed  to  it.  These  initials  refer  to 
Francis  Kinwelmersh,  and  it  is  doubtful  by  which  of 


these  individuals  it  was  written  ;  but  the  Earl  of 
Essex  is  supposed  to  have  the  fairest  claim  to  the 


FRANCIS  DAVISON  was  the  eldest  son  of  William 
Davison,  who  was  secretary  of  state  and  privy  coun 
sellor  to  Queen  Elizabeth.  In  1602  he  published  «  A 
Poetical  Rapsodie,  containing,  diuers  Sonnets,  Odes, 
Elegies,  Madrigals,  Epigrams,  Pastorals,  Eglogues, 
with  other  Poems,  both  in  rime  and  measured  verse." 
As  a  collection  of  Elizabethan  poetry,  this  work 
has  been  always  highly  esteemed,  and  has  gone 
through  repeated  editions.  Davison,  however,  is  in 
troduced  into  these  pages  as  one  of  the  writers  of 
"  Divers  Selected  Psalms  of  David,  in  verse,  of  a 
different  composure  from  those  used  in  the  Church," 
the  MS.  of  which  is  among  the  Harleian  Collection 
in  the  British  Museum.  Francis  Davison  was  by 
far  the  largest  contributor  to  this  version  of  select 


CHRISTOPHER  DAVISON  was  the  second  son  of  secre 
tary  Davison.  Nearly  all  that  has  been  ascertained 
about  him  is,  that  he  was  a  member  of  Gray's  Inn, 
and  that  he  translated  some  of  the  select  version  of 
Psalms  in  the  Harleian  MS.  mentioned  under  Fran 
cis  Davison.  The  time  and  place  of  his  death  are 


OF  BRYAN  nothing  more  is  known  than  that  he 
wrote  a  few  of  the  versions  of  the  Psalms  in  the 


Harleian  MS.  to  which  the  Davisons  were  contribu 
tors.  His  name  is  prefixed  to  the  Introduction  t< 
the  manuscript. 


OF  GIPPS  nothing  more  is  known  than  that  he  has 
left  versions  of  the  first  and  second  Psalms  in  the 
MSS.  contributed  to  by  the  Davisons  and  Bryan. 


CAREY  wrote  Psalm  cxi.  in  the  select  version  men 
tioned  in  the  preceding  notices.  This,  however,  1S 
not  found  in  the  original  MS,  but  in  a  copy,  Manu- 
scrib'd  by  R.  Cr."  This  manuscript  is  beautifully 
bound  in  white  vellum,  with  other  original  poetry; 
the  whole  being  entitled  "A  Handful  of  Celestial 
Flowers;  viz.  divers  selected  Psalmsof  David  inverse, 
differently  translated  from  those  used  in  the  Church  ; 
Divers  Meditations  upon  our  Saviour  s  Passion;  Certain 
Hymnes  or  Can-oils  for  Christmas  Daie ;  A  Divine 
Pastorell  Eglogue ;  Meditations  upon  the  1st  and 
13th  verses  of>  17th  chap  of  Job.  Composed  by 
divers  worthie  and  learned  Gentlemen.  The  other 
poems  in  this  MS.  belong  to  a  later  date  than  that  to 
which  this  selection  refers. 


WHETSTONE  was  a  noted  writer  in  the  age  of  Eliza 
beth  His  works  in  prose  and  verse  are  nume 
rous:  one  affords  a  specimen  for  these  pages.  Ihis 
was  published  in  1576,  and  is  entitled  «  Ihe  Rocke 
of  Regard:  divided  into  foure  parts :  the  first  the 
Castle  of  Delight;  the  second,  the  Garden  of  Vn- 


tliriftinesse ;  the  third,  the  Arbour  of  Vertue ;  and 
the  fourth,  the  Orchard  of  Repentance."  It  is  from 
the  fourth  part  of  this  volume  that  the  extract  is 
derived ;  the  language  of  the  whole  of  which  is  that 
of  repentance  for  a  life  of  folly. 


DUDLEY  FENNER  published  in  1587,  at  Middleburgh, 
"  The  Song  of  Songs,  that  is,  the  most  excellent  Song 
which  was  Solomon's,  translated  out  of  the  Hebrue 
into  English  Meeter  with  as  little  libertie  in  departing 
from  the  wordes,  as  any  plaine  translation  in  prose  can 
vse :  and  interpreted  by  a  short  commentarie." 


STEPHEN  GOSSON  appears  to  have  enjoyed  considerable 
poetic  reputation  in  the  age  of  Elizabeth.  By  Francis 
Meres  his  name  is  mentioned  in  conjunction  with  that 
of  Spenser ;  and  Wood  also  bears  testimony  that  he 
was  celebrated  "for  his  admirable  penning  of  pas 
torals."  Among  other  poems  he  wrote  one  entitled 
Speculum  Humanum,  which  is  printed  in  Kirton's 
"  Mirror  of  Man's  Life,"  which  was  dedicated  to  Anne 
Countess  of  Pembroke,  and  published  in  1580.  This 
latter  poem  is  reprinted  in  these  pages. 



THIS  author  wrote  a  small  poem,  which  consists  only 
of  a  few  leaves,  entitled  "  The  Loue  of  God."  There 
is  no  date  to  it,  but  it  bears  internal  evidence  of  having 
been  written  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 




SAMUEL  ROWLANDS  was  the  author  of  a  great  many 
poetical  works.  Among  them  was  «  The  Betraying 
of  Christ:  ludas  in  despair:  with  poems  on  the 
Passion,"  which  was  published  in  1598. 

E.  W. 

THIS  author  wrote  a  poem  entitled  « Thameseidos, 
deeded  into  three  bookes,  or  cantos,"  which  was  pub- 
Ushed  in  1600.  The  lines  extracted  are  from  the 
close  of  the  first  canto. 


ANN  DOWRICHE  wrote  "The  French  Historic :  that  is 
A  lamentable  Discourse  of  three  of  the  chiefe  and 
most  famous  bloodie  broiles  that  haue  happened  in 
France  for  the  Gospell  of  lesus  Christ  etc.  This 
work  was  published  in  1589,  and  at  the  back  of  the 
title-page  are  the  arms  of  the  Edgecombe  family, 
after  which  follows  the  dedication,  addressed  to  her 
"loving  brother  Master  Pearse  Edgecombe  of  Mount 
Ed-ecogmbe  in  Deuon."  Between  this  dedication 
and  a  prose  address  to  the  reader  are  some  stanzas 
which  as  the  pious  composition  of  a  lady,  possess 
ntere  t.  They  form  an  acrostic  to  her  brother ;  each 
stanza  commencing  in  every  line  with  one  letter  of 
his  name. 



IN  1600  a  work  was  published  entitled  "  The  Teares 
if  the  Beloued-  or,  The  Lamentation  of  Saint  John 
foncem^g  the  Death  and  Passion  of  Christ  Jesus  our 
Savio™  By  J.  M.,"  that  is,  John  Markham. 




Two  of  this  name  appear  before  in  this  selection,  but 
this  John  Davies  has  not  been  identified  with  either  of 
them.  He  wrote  "  Sir  Martin  Mar-people  :  his  coller 
of  esses,"  from  the  close  of  which  the  extract  under 
his  name  is  derived.  The  work  was  published  in 
1580.  No  mention  is  made  of  his  work  by  Ritson. 


RICHARD  ROBINSON  was  the  author  of  a  volume  en 
titled  "  A  Golden  Mirrour :  conteyning  certaine  pithie 
and  figurative  visions  prognosticating  good  fortune 
to  England  and  all  true  English  subiects.  Whereto 
be  adioyned  certaine  pretie  poemes  written  on  the 
names  of  sundrie  both  noble  and  worshipfull."  This 
work  was  published  in  1589. 


EDWARD  HAKE  was  educated  under  John  Hopkins, 
the  metrical  associate  of  Sternhold,  and  afterwards 
became  an  attorney  in  the  Common  Pleas.  He  was 
the  author  of  several  urose  and  poetical  works,  and 
among  others  the  folio vMig,  from  which  the  specimens 
of  his  poetry  are  derived/  1.  "Newes  out  of  St.  Powle's 
Churchyard."  2.  "A  Commemoration  of  the  most  pros 
perous  and  peaceable  Raigne  of  our  gratious  and  deere 
Soueraigne,  Lady  Elizabeth,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
of  England,  Fraunce,  and  Irelande,  Queene,  etc.  now 
newly  set  foorth  this  xviii  day  of  Nouember,  beying 
the  first  day  of  the  xviii  yeere  of  her  Majestie's  sayd 
raigne,1575."  3.  "Of  Gold's  Kingdome  and  this  vnhelp- 
ing  age.  Described  in  sundry  poems  intermixedly 
placed  after  certaine  other  poems  of  more  speciall 
i  respect,  etc."  1604. 





ROGER  COTTON  wrote  "A  Spiritual!  Song:  containing 
an  historicall  discourse  from  the  infancie  of  the  world 
untill  this  present  time  ;"  and  "An  Armor  of  Proofe 
brought  from  the  Tower  of  Jauid  to  fight  against 
Spannyardes,  and  all  enimies  of  the  trueth  The  for 
mer  of  these  works  was  published  in  1595,  and  the 
latter  in  1596. 


LEONARD  STAUELY,  of  whom  no  mention  is  made  by 
Ritson,  wrote  «  A  Breef  Discovrse  wherein  is  declarer 
of  r  trauailes  and  miseries  of  this  pamfuHife    an 
that  death  is  the  dissoluer  of  man  s  miserie.      There 
is  no  date :  but  it  is  supposed  to  have  been  published 
about  3580. 


WILLIAM  WARNER  wrote  "  Albion's  England  :  a  con 
tinued  Historic  of  the  same  Kingdome,  from  tl 
duals  of  the  first  Inhabitants  thereof :  and  most  the 
chiefe  alterations  and  accidents  there  hapmng  vnto, 
and  in  the  happie  raigne  of  our  now  most  gracious 
Soueraigne,  Queene  Elizabeth.  With  y^rietie  of  in- 
uentiue  and  historicall  intermixtures."  This  e  aborate 
poem,  which  exhibits  a  view  of  the  secular  and 
ecclesiastical  events  in  English  history,  was  firs 
published  in  1592.  It  scarcely  admits  of  extract  bu 
the  stanzas  here  given  may  shew  the  talent  of  th 
poet,  and  the  nature  of  his  poetry.  The  ninth  book  i 
devoted  to  the  exposure  of  popery  and  the  horrors  o 
the  Spanish  Inquisition. 



THIS  author  wrote  "The  Passions  of  the  Spirit" 
which  was  published  in  1599. 


TIMOTHY  KENDALL,  who  was  educated  at  Oxford  and 
afterwards  became  member  of  Staple's  Inn,  wrote 
*lowres  of  Epigrammes  out  of  sundrie  the  most 
singular  authors  selected:  to  which  is  annexed,  Trifles 
deuised  and  written  for  the  most  part  at  sundrie  tymes 
in  his  yong  and  tender  age."  The  date  of  the  publi 
cation  is  1577. 


PETER  PETT  wrote  "Time's  lourney  to  seeke  his 
daughter  Truth,  and  Truth's  letter  to  Fame,"  which 
was  published  in  1599. 


i°HNmPlTy  wrote  "A  Poore  Man's  Beneuolence  to 
the  afflicted  Church,"  to  which  are  added  two  Psalms 
This  work  was  published  in  1566. 

G.  B. 

G  B.  wrote  "A  New  Booke  called,  The  Shippe  of 
bategarde.       This    work   was    published    in   1569 
Kitson  refers  these  initials  to  Barnaby  Googe,  and 
Bernard  Garter;  but  it  is  not  certain  that  they  can 
be  identified  with  either. 




STEPHEN  BATMAN,  professor  in  divinity,  was  a  native 
of  Bruton  in  Somersetshire  :  he  died  in  1581.  Bat 
man  was  the  author  of  several  prose  and  poetical 
works,  among  the  latter  of  which  is,  "The  trauayled 
Pylgrime,  bringing  newes  from  all  partes  of  the  worlde, 
such  like  scarce  harde  of  before."  This  work  was 
published  in  1509. 


WILLIAM  BROXUP,  of  whom,  as  well  as  several 
others  in  this  collection,  no  mention  is  made  in 
Ritson,  wrote  "  St.  Peter's  Path  to  the  Joyes  of  Hea- 
uen,  wherein  is  described  the  frailtie  of  the  flesh, 
the  power  of  the  spirit,  the  labyrinth  of  this  life, 
Sathan's  subtilitie,  and  the  soule's  saluation."  This 
work  appeared  in  1598. 


BABNABY  GOOGE  was  a  celebrated  translator  in  the 
reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  he  wrote  some  original 
works,  among  which  is  a  work  entitled  "Eglogs, 
Epytaphes,  and  Sonettes,"  which  was  published  in 


FRANCIS  SABIE  was  the  author  of  some  sacred  poems 
entitled  "  Adam's  Complaint :  The  Old  Worlde's  Tra- 
o-edie  :  Dauid  and  Bathseba,"  which  appeared  in  1596. 
He  was  the  author  also  of  some  secular  works  in 
hexameters  and  blank  verse. 



ANDREW  WILLET  was  a  learned  divine.  His  works, 
which  are  numerous,  are  chiefly  prose.  Among  his 
poetical  works  is  one  entitled  Sacrorvm  Emblematvm, 
which  is  written  in  Latin  and  English.  There  is 
no  date  affixed  to  it,  but  it  was  written  within  the 
reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

C.  T. 

WROTE  "  A  Short  Inuentory  of  certayne  Idle  Inuen- 
tions;  the  fruites  of  a  close  and  secret  garden  of 
great  ease,  and  little  pleasure."  This  work  was  pub 
lished  in  1581. 


WILLOBIE  was  the  author  of  awrork  entitled  "Avissa: 
or  the  true  picture  of  a  modest  maid,  and  of  a  chast 
and  constant  wife  :"  it  was  published  in  1594. 


SAMUEL  DANIEL  was  born  in  1562,  and  was  educated 
at  Magdalen  Hall,  Oxford.  He  became  tutor  to  Lady 
Anne  Clifford,  subsequently  Countess  of  Pembroke, 
to  whom  several  of  his  works  are  dedicated.  The 
poetical  productions  of  Daniel  are  numerous,  and 
the  tenor  of  his  writings  is  generally  moral  and  in 
structive;  but  only  one,  his  "  Musophilos,"  which 
contains  a  general  defence  of  learning,  affords  ex 
tracts  suitable  to  this  selection. 


R.  D. 

R.  D.  wrote  "  An  Exhortation  to  England  to  ioine  for 
defense  of  true  religion  and  their  natiue  countne. 
There  is  no  date  affixed  to  this  work,  but  it  bears 
internal  evidence  of  having  been  written  in  the  age 
of  Elizabeth. 


THE  extract  from  this  author  is  from  "  The  Gallery 
of  Gallant  Inuentions,  edited  by  and  contributed  to 
by  T  Proctor,'1  which  was  published  two  years  alter 
"The  Paradise  of  Dayntie  Deuises ;"  namely,  m 


THOMAS  CHURCHYARD  was  a  celebrated  writer  of 
prose  and  poetry  in  the  age  of  Elizabeth.  His  works 
are  chiefly  of  a  secular  character.  The  first  specimen 
in  these  pages  is  transcribed  from  "A  Mvsicall  Con 
sort  of  Heauenly  Harmonic,  compounded  out  ot  mame 
parts  of  musicke,  called  Chvrchyard's  Charitie  This 
work  appeared  in  1595,  and  was  dedicated 
Riffht  Honorable  Robert  Deverevx,  Earle  ot  Essex. 
The  "  Verses  fit  for  euery  one  to  knowe  and  con- 
fesse"  are  an  extract  from  a  rare  work  in  Lambeth 
Palace  library,  entitled  "  The  Wonders  of  the  Air  :> 
date  1602.  Churchyard  contributed  one  ot  the  poeti 
cal  translations  to  the  Old  Version  of  Psalms. 




MICHAEL  COSOWARTH  wrote  a  version  of  some  select 
Psalms,  which  is  among  the  MSS.  in  the  Harleian 
Collection  at  the  British  Museum.  Complimentary 
verses  are  prefixed  to  this  work  by  Richard  Carey 
and  Henry  Lok,  or  Locke. 



THIS  author  wrote  a  poem,  now  very  rare,  entitled 
"  The  Lamentation  of  the  Lost  Sheepe." 



THIS  lady  was  the  daughter  of  Martin  Barney,  or 
Bernye,  of  Grimston,  in  Norfolk,  and  married  Chris 
topher,  the  youngest  son  of  Thomas  Grymeston,  in 
the  county  of  York.  She  wrote  "  Miscellanea :  pray 
ers,  meditations,  memoratiues ;"  in  which  there  are 
seven  "  Odes  in  imitation  of  the  seuen  Pcenitentiall 
Psalmes,  in  seuen  seueral  kinde  of  verse." 


THE  selected  stanzas  from  this  writer  are  transcribed 
from  a  work  published  in  1592,  entitled  "  Evphves' 
Shadow :  the  battle  of  the  dances,  wherein  youthfull 
folly  is  set  down  in  his  right  figure,  and  vaine  fancies 
are  prooued  to  produce  many  offences." 

xl  BRIEF    NOTICES    OF    THE 


THOMAS  DRANT,  who  was  more   memorable  as  a 

preacher  than  a  poet,  wrote  "A  Medicmable  Moral!, 
that  is,  the  two  Bookes  of  Horace  his  Satyres ;  *,ng- 
lyshed  according  to  the  prescription  of  Saint  Hierome. 
The  Wailyngs  of  the  Prophet  Hieremiah,  done  into 
Englyshe  verse.  Also  Epigrammes."  This  book  was 
published  in  1566,  being  "perused  and  allowed  ac- 
cordyng  to  the  Quene's  Maiestie's  imunctions. 


THE  "Godlie  Dittie"  written  by  this  author  is  here 
reprinted  from  the  Harleian  Miscellany. 


IN  1601  was  published  "The  Song  of  Mary  the 
Mother  of  Christ ;  containing  the  story  ot  his  lite 
and  passion  ;  the  teares  of  Christ  in  the  garden ;  with 
the  description  of  the  heauenly  Jerusalem.  >  Inis 
work  was  issued  anonymously,  and  the  principal 
poem  in  it  bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  that  enti 
tled  "Mary  Magdalen's  Lamentation  for  the  Losse 
of  her  Maister  Jesus." 


THIS  author  wrote  a  volume  entitled  "  Mary  Magda 
len's  Lamentations  for  the  Loss  of  her  Maister  Jesus, 
which  has  been  supposed  by  some  to  be  the  produc 
tion  of  Sir  Nicholas  Breton. 



IN  1597  a  work  was  published,  entitled  "  Saint  Peter's 
Ten  Teares.  Ten  Teares  of  S.  Peter's,,  supposedly 
written  vpon  his  weeping  sorrowes  for  denying  his 
Maister  Christ."  These  Teares  are  preceded  by  a 
metrical  introduction  :  they  are  ten  small  poems,  each 
consisting  of  six  stanzas  of  six  lines. 


IN  1603  Henry  Dod  published  a  small  volume  of 
"  Nine  of  the  Singing  Psalms,"  which  he  turned  "into 
easie  meter,"  for  the  use  of  his  own  family  "and 
some  godly  learned  friends."  At  a  subsequent  date 
he  issued,  with  the  royal  privilege,  "  Al  the  Psalmes 
ofDauid,  with  certene  Songes  and  Canticles  of  Moses, 
Debora,  and  others,  not  formerly  extant  for  song." 
Beyond  this  nothing  is  known  of  this  author,  except 
that  Wither,  in  his  "  Scholler's  Purgatory,"  calls  him 
a  "  silkman." 


IN  1582  was  published  "The  Castell  of  Courtesie, 
whereunto  is  adioyened  the  Holde  of  Humilitie,  with 
the  Chariot  of  Chastitie  thereunto  annexed  :  also  a 
Dialogue  between  Age  and  Youth,  and  other  matters 
herein  contained.  By  lames  Yates,  seruing-man." 
Besides  the  principal  subjects  which  are  enumerated 
in  the  title-page,  this  volume  contains  a  great  variety 
of  minor  poems. 



A.  W. 

THIS  writer  was  one  of  the  contributors  to  Davison's 
"Poetical  Rhapsody."  The  only  names  agreeing  with 
the  initials,  mentioned  by  Ritson,  are  Andrew  VV  ilie 
and  Arthur  Warren,  and  he  is  inclined  to  attribute 
them  to  the  latter ;  but  no  proof  exists.  Sir  Egerton 
Brvdges'  supposition,  that  the  poems  to  which  they 
are  affixed  were  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  is  equally 
unsupported.  The  author  lived  after  the  death  ol 
Sir  Philip  Sidney,  in  1585  :  he  wrote  an  eclogue, 
an  epigram,  and  some  hexameters  upon  his  death. 


ANOTHER  of  the  contributors  to  Davison's  "  Poetical 

XCI  I. 

JOHN  BODENHAM  is  not  introduced  into  these  pages 
as  a  poet,  but  as  the  compiler  of  "  Belvedere,  or  the 
Garden  of  the  Muses  ;  which  is  a  collection  oi  sen 
tences  from  most  of  the  principle  poets,  living  and 
dead,  which  are  arranged  in  the  form  oi  poems.  An 
address  to  the  reader  is  prefixed,  in  which  there  is 
a  statement  of  the  authors  from  whose  works  the 
extracts  have  been  made ;  but  the  extracts  are  so 
arranged  as  to  make  them  appear  as  the  original 
compositions  of  the  compiler. 




!    THE  works  written  by  this  author  from  which  the 
|    specimens  are  derived,  are,  1.  "  Vicissitudo  Rerum  : 
|   an  Elegiacall  Poeme  of  the  interchangeable  courses 
:   and  varietie  of  things  in  this  world/'  which  was  pub 
lished  in  1600;  and  2.  "A  Progress  of  Pietie,  or  the 
Harbour  of  Heauenly  Harts,  etc.,"  first  printed  in 
1596.     Both  these  works  are  prose,  interspersed  with 


THIS  author  wrote,  "  The  Garden  of  Prudence ; 
wherein  is  contained  a  patheticall  Discourse  and 
godly  Meditation,  most  brieflie  touching  the  vanities 
of  the  world,  the  calamities  of  hell,  and  the  felicities 
of  heauen."  The  title-page  continues,  "You  shall 
also  find  planted  in  the  same  diuers  sweet  and  plea 
sant  flowers,  both  necessarie  and  comfortable  both  for 
body  and  soule."  This  work,  which  is  in  prose  and 
verse,  was  inscribed  to  Ann  Countess  of  Warwick. 
It  was  published  in  1595. 



WROTE  "  A  Briefe  of  the  Bible's  Historic :  drawn  first 
into  English  poesie,  and  then  illustrated  by  apt  an 
notations  :  whereto  is  now  added  a  Synopsis  of  the 
Bible's  Doctrine."  This  work  was  first  published  in 
1596,  and,  although  a  very  small  volume,  it  displays 
great  biblical  knowledge.  It  is  chiefly  prose,  and  the 
prose  far  transcends  the  poetry  in  merit.  The  stanzas 
selected,  which  exhibit  a  brief  view  of  Christianity, 
may  serve  as  a  specimen. 



TRANSLATED  "  Christian  and  Wholesome  Admonition, 
etc.,"  in  which  the  piece  of  poetry  annexed  to  his 
name  is  found.  The  work  was  published  in  158  /. 


JOHN  MARBECK  was  organist  of  St.  George's  Chapel, 
Windsor.  He  wrote  "  The  Holie  Historic  of  King 
Dauid,  drawn  into  English  meetre  for  the  youth  to 
reade,"  which  was  published  in  1579. 


THOMAS  GRESSOP  was  of  All  Souls'  College,  Oxford. 
He  was  a  man  of  learning  and  piety.  In  the  reign  of 
Edward  VI.  he  was  chaplain  to  the  army  against 
Scotland;  and  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  a  reader  of 
divinity  in  the  university,  and  a  preacher  at  Saint 
Paul's.  The  stanzas  annexed  to  his  name  were  first 
published  in  the  folio  edition  of  the  Geneva  transla 
tion  of  the  Bible,  printed  in  1578. 

H.  C. 

THE  stanzas  annexed  to  these  initials  are  derived 
from  a  small  black-lettered  volume  of  a  prose  work 
by  R.  Greenham,  entitled  "  Comfort  for  an  afflicted 
Conscience."  The  initials  agree  with  those  of  xcv. 




ONE  of  the  contributors  to  Davison's  (i  Poetical 
Rhapsody  ;"  beyond  which  nothing  is  known  to  the 
editor  concerning  him. 


WROTE  "The  Lamentation  of  a  lost  Sinner/'  in 
cluded  in  the  Old  Version  of  Psalms. 



THE  poem  annexed  to  this  author's  name  is  derived 
from  a  prose  volume  entitled  "  Certaine  very  proper 
and  most  profitable  Similies,  wherein  sundrie,  and 
very  many  most  foule  vices  and  dangerous  sinnes 
of  all  sorts  are  so  plainly  laid  open,  and  displaied 
in  their  kindes,  and  so  pointed  out  with  the  finger 
of  God,  in  his  sacred  and  holy  Scriptures,  to  signifie 
his  wrath  and  indignation  belonging  vnto  them,  that 
the  Christian  reader  being  seasoned  with  the  Spirit 
of  grace,  and  hauing  God  before  his  eies,  will  be 
very  fearful,  euen  in  loue  that  he  beareth  to  God, 
to  pollute  and  to  defile  his  hart,  his  mind,  his  mouth 
or  hands,  with  any  such  forbidden  things.  And  also 
manic  very  notable  vertues,  with  their  due  com 
mendations,  so  liuely  and  truly  expressed,  according 
to  the  holy  word,  that  the  godly  reader,  being  of  a 
Christian  inclination,  will  be  mightily  inflamed  with 
a  loue  vnto  them.  Collected  by  Anthonie  Fletcher, 
minister  of  the  word  of  God,  in  vnfained  loue  in  the 
Lord  Jesu,  to  do  the  best,  and  all  that  he  can,  to 
pleasure  and  to  profite  all  those  that  desire  to  know 
the  Lord's  waies,  and  to  walke  in  the  same."  This 
work  was  published  in  1595. 




ROBERT  HOLLAND,  "Master  of  Arts,  ami  Minister 
of  the  church  of  Prendergast, '  wrote  "  Hie  holie 
Historic  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  s  na- 
tiuitie,  life,  acts,  miracles,  death,  passion  resurrection 
and  ascension."  This  work,  from  which  the  extract 
is  derived,  was  first  published  in  1594.  It  was  de 
dicated  "To  the  Right  Worshipfull  Mistress  Anne 
Phillips,  of  Picton." 

H.  C. 

H  C  wrote  "The  Forrest  of  Fancy.  Wherein  is 
conteined  very  pretty  apothegmes  and  pleasant 
tories  both  in  meeter  and  prose,  etc.  inis  was 
published  in  1570,  and  is  chiefly  of  a  secular  cha 
racter.  Who  H.  C.  was,  is  npt_  known.  Warton 
considers  the  initials  as  appertaining  to  Henry  Con 
stable  ;  but,  as  Sir  Egerton  Brydges  observes,  this 
perhaps  proceeded  from  the  difficulty  of  finding  an 
other  coeval  claimant,  as  there  is  nothing  in  the 
style  which  assimilates  it  to  the  poetical  productions 
which  that  author  published  about  fifteen  years  after- 


STEBNHOLD  was  groom  of  the  robes  to  Henry  the 
Eighth:  an  office  which  he  retained  in  the  court  c 
Edward  the  Sixth.  Braithwait  says  that  he  obtained 
his  situation  by  his  poetical  talents;  jnd  he  appears, 
indeed,  to  have  had  a  reputation  about  the  court 
not  only  for  his  poetry,  but  also  for  his  piety.  As 
is  well  known,  Sternhold  was  one  of  the  principal 
contributors  to  the  Old  Version  of  the  Psalms  of  Da 
vid.  It  is  generally  believed  that  he  composed 


one  ;  but  this  is  an  error.  Sternhold  died  in  1549, 
in  which  year  thirty-seven,  and  not  fifty-  one,  were 
first  published  by  Day  under  the  title  of  "  Psalmes 
of  Dauid,  drawen  into  English  Metre  by  Thomas 
Sternholde."  In  1551,  another  edition  was  published, 
with  seven  added  from  the  pen  of  John  Hopkins  ; 
and  seven  more  were  added  in  1556  by  William 
Whittingham,  then  an  exile  at  Geneva.  The  remain 
ing  Psalms  were  versified  by  different  individuals, 
and  they  were  first  printed  all  together  at  the  end 
of  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  in  1562,  under 
the  title  of  "  The  whole  Book  of  Psalmes,  collected 
into  English  Metre,  by  T.  Sternhold,  J.  Hopkins, 
and  others.  Set  forth  and  allowed  to  be  sung  in  all 
Churches  before  and  after  Morning  and  Evening 
Prayer,  and  also  before  and  after  Sermons."  In  the 
early  editions  of  "The  whole  Book  of  Psalmes" 
Sternhold's  initials  are  affixed  to  the  first  and  twenty- 
second  inclusive,  and  to  the  25th,  26th,  28th,  32d, 
34th,  41st,  43rd,  44th,  63rd,  68th,  73rd,  103rd,  120th, 
123rd,  and  128th:  in  the  whole  thirty-seven,  the 
number  published. 

W.   P. 

THE  fragment  annexed  to  these  initials  is  derived 
from  scraps  (preserved  in  some  volumes  of  ballads 
in  the  British  Museum)  of  a  work  entitled  "  Medivs  : 
Psalmes  in  fourer  parts  which  may  be  song  to  all 
musicall  instrumentes,  set  forth  for  the  encrease  of 
vertue  and  abolishying  of  other  vayne  and  triflying 
ballads.  Imprinted  at  London  by  John  Day,  1563." 
The  other  two  or  three  fragments  preserved  are  from 
the  Old  Version  of  Psalms,  except  a  prayer  in  prose. 
The  whole  is  set  to  music. 




NEARLY  all  that  is  known  of  Hopkins,  beyond  the 
fact  of  his  being  the  principal  contributor  to  the  Old 
Version  of  Psalms,  and  the  occurrence  of  his  name 
subscribed  to  some  Latin  stanzas  prefixed  to  *oxe  s 
Martyrology,  is,  that  he  was  a  clergyman  and  school 
master  of  Suffolk,  and  "perhaps  a  graduate  at  Ox 
ford/'  about  the  year  1544  Although  Hopkins  at 
first  only  published  seven  of  the  Psalms  and  those 
anonymously;  yet  he  subsequently  trans  lated  fifty- 
eight,  as  indicated  by  his  initials  prefixed  Hopkins 
moreover,  was  the  ostensible  editor  of  the  collected 
Psalms  of  the  Old  Version,  when  first  published  in 



NORTON  was  born  in  Bedfordshire  and  became  a 
barrister-at-law,  and  a  poet  of  ^^J^i 
tion  among  his  contemporaries.  Next  to  Hopkins  he 
was  the  largest  contributor  towards  completing  the 
Old  Version  :  but  some  few  now  ascribed  to  him 
were  written  by  John  Mardley. 


THIS  learned  puritanical  divine  was  educated  at  Ox 
ford  after  which  he  went  abroad,  and  studied  m  some 
of  the  German  universities.    Subsequently  he  became 
minister  of  an  English  congregation  at  Geneva;  but 
after  the  accession  of  Queen  Elizabeth  he  returned 
to  England,  and  was  appointed  Dean  of  Durham 
While  at   Geneva,  he   took  an  active  part  in  the 
tonslation  of  that'  version  of  the  Scriptures  known 
as  the  Geneva  Bible  ;  and  also  rendered  those  Psakns 
into  metre  which  are  distinguished  in  the  Old  Version 
by  his  initials,  and  some  others,  which  are  only  t 
be  found  in  the  earliest  editions. 




LITTLE  is  known  of  Kethe  beyond  the  fact  that  he 
was  one  of  those  who  left  England  to  avoid  perse 
cution  during  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary,  and  that  he 
resided  at  Geneva,  where  he  composed  those  Psalms 
in  the  Old  Version  to  which  his  initials  are  affixed. 
Warton  and  Strype  call  him  a  native  of  Scotland: 
he  appears  however  to  have  been  an  Englishman. 
Kethe  likewise  contributed  to  the  Scottish  Version ; 
arising,  apparently,  from  the  fact,  that  Hopkins 
rejected  many  of  his  translations,  as  he  did  many 


ROBERT  WISDOM  was  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of 
England  and  archdeacon  of  Ely.  He  appears  to  have 
been  not  only  a  champion  of  the  Reformation,  but  a 
firm  vindicator  of  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  against 
the  puritans.  Like  many  other  clergymen,  Wisdom 
took  refuge  at  Geneva  during  the  reign  of  Queen 
Mary.  Strype  says,  that  "  besides  other  books,  Wis 
dom  penned  a  very  godly  and  fruitful  exposition  upon 
certain  Psalms  of  David ;  of  which  he  translated  some 
into  English  metre:  there  is  one  of  them,  and  I 
think  no  more,  still  remaining  in  our  ordinary  sing 
ing  Psalms— namely,  the  hundred  twenty-fifth."  The 
initials  of  Wisdom  are  affixed  in  the  early  editions 
of  the  Old  Version  to  this  Psalm  only ;  but  there  is 
a  hymn  of  his  preserved  at  the  end  of  the  singing 
Psalms  in  our  old  Bibles  and  Psalters,  which  will 
be  found  in  these  pages. 




JOHN  PULLAIN  was  born  in  Yorkshire,  and  admitted 
in  1547,  when  about  thirty  years  of  age,  senior  stu 
dent  of  Christ  Church,  Oxford.  He  preached  the  doc 
trines  of  the  reformation  privately  at  Saint  Michael's,, 
Cornhill,  in  1556,  but  afterwards  became  an  exile.  On 
his  return,  after  Elizabeth  had  ascended  the  throne, 
he  was  made  archdeacon  of  Colchester :  he  died  in 
1565.  Pullain  contributed  the  148th  and  149th  Psalms 
to  the  earlier  editions  of  the  Old  Version  ;  but  nei 
ther  of  these  has  been  retained.  Bliss  intimates  that 
none  of  his  poetical  productions  were  extant ;  but  the 
149th  Psalm  is  still  preserved,  and  is  given  in  these 


IN  the  early  edition  of  the  Old  Version  of  Psalms 
from  which  we  transcribe,  the  118th,  131st,  132d, 
135th,  and  145th,  have  the  initial  M.  affixed.  In  the 
later  editions  these  are  all  ascribed  to  Norton  ;  but  the 
initial  rather  appears  to  indicate  John  Mardley.  In  a 
curious  article  on  Stemhold's  Psalms,  Sir  Egerton 
Brydges  makes  these  remarks:—  "M. ;  unnoticed  by 
Ritson:  it  might  be  John  Mardley,  who  'turned 
twenty-four  Psalms  into  English  odes,  and  many 
religious  songs:'  supposing  the  first  supplied  number 
(Psalm)  132,  from  the  last  might  be  selected  'the 
Humble  Sute  of  a  Sinner/  and  'the  Lamentation 
of  a  Sinner.' "  The  initial  M.  seems  to  have  been 
exchanged  for  that  of  N.  by  degrees ;  for  in  an  edition 
published  forty  years  later  than  that  from  which  our 
specimen  is  derived,  M.  is  affixed  only  to  two  Psalms, 
the  131st  and  132d, 



ONE  of  the  contributors  to  the  Old  Version  of  Psalms. 


T.  B. 

THE  hymns  to  which  these  initials  are  affixed  ap 
pear  in  the  early  editions  of  the  Old  Version  of  the 

D.  COX. 

THE  paraphrase  of  the  Lord's  prayer  annexed  to  this 
name  also  appears  in  the  early  editions  of  the  Old 

E.  G. 

THESE  initials  likewise  are  affixed  to  a  hymn  in 
the  same  editions  of  the  Old  Version  as  the  fore 


A  Contributor  to  Byrd's  Collection,  which  appeared 
in  1587. 

W.  A. 

NOTHING  is  known  of  this  author  :  the  poem  annexed 
to  his  name  is  reprinted  from  "  Three  Collections  of 
English  Poetry,"  presented  by  the  duke  of  Northum 
berland  to  the  Roxburghe  Club.  It  is  derived  from  his 
"Speciall  Remedie,  etc."  which  was  printed  in  1579. 




WROTE  "  A  short  Discourse  of  man's  fatall  end,  with 
a  commendation  of  Syr  Nicholas  Bacon,"  which  was 
printed  as  a  broadside  in  1578. 


WROTE  an  "Epytaphe  upon  Bp.  Juell"  which  was 
printed  as  a  broadside.  The  two  epitaphs  on  Jewel 
in  these  volumes  have  never  before  been  reprinted. 


WROTE  a  broadside  entitled  "  The  Refuge  of  a  Sin 
ner  "  which  was  printed  in  1565.  It  is  supposed  that 
he  was  father  or  grandfather  of  Sir  Thomas,  the  iirst 
baronet  of  the  family. 


THIS  author  wrote  "  A  Mysticall  Devise,  etc."  or  a 
paraphrase  of  a  portion  of  the  Song  of  Solomon ;  to 
which  is  added  "A  Coppie  of  the  Epistle  that  Jeremye 
sent  unto  the  Jewes  which  were  led  away  prisoners  by 
the  king  of  Babilon,  wherein  he  certifyeth  them  ot 
the  thinges  which  was  commanded  him  of  God ;"  being 
a  paraphrase  of  the  sixth  chapter  of  the  apocryphal 
book  of  Baruch.  At  the  end  is  a  paraphrase  of  "  1  he 
Commaundements  of  God  our  Creator  geuen  by 
Moyses,  Exod.  xx."  and  "  The  Commaundements  of 
Sathan  put  in  practice  dayly  by  the  Pope."  This 
work  was  printed  in  1575. 



WROTE  "A  briefe  Treatise  agaynst  certayne  errors 
of  the  Romish  Church :  very  plainly,  notably,  and 
pleasantly  confuting  the  same  by  Scriptures  and  aun- 
cient  writers.  1570.  Perused  and  liscenced  according 
to  the  Queene's  Maiestie's  Iniunction.  1574."  The 
poem  is  preceded  by  an  address  from  "  The  Printer 
to  the  Christian  Reader,"  in  six  eight-line  stanzas,  in 
which  he  says  that  it  was  published 

"  Chiefly  for  the  symple  sorte, 

in  forme  most  playne, 
In  pleasant  wyse,  and  order  shorte, 
That  they  may  viewe  with  lesser  payne, 
And  in  their  mynde  the  same  contayne." 



WROTE  "  Queene  Elizabeth's  Teares :  or  her  resolute 
bearing  the  Christian  Crosse/'  etc. ;  and  a  poem  en 
titled  "A  Crucifixe,"  etc.,  which  is  chiefly  descriptive 
of  our  Saviour  s  sufferings  and  crucifixion. 


THIS  author  wrote  a  historical  poem  entitled  "A 
Frendly  Lamm,  or  faythfull  warnynge  to  the  true- 
harted  subiectes  of  England:  Discoueryng  the  actes 
and  malicious  myndes  of  those  obstinate  and  rebel 
lious  Papists  that  hope,  as  they  terme  it,  to  haue 
their  golden  day."  This  poem,  of  which  no  men 
tion  is  made  by  any  bibliographer,  was  dedicated  "  to 
the  moste  vertuous  and  gratious  Ladie  Katherine 
Duches  of  Suffolke,"  and  was  published  in  1570. 



MIDDLETON  was  a  celebrated  writer  in  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth.  His  productions  are  chiefly  secular,  but 
he  wrote  "  The  Wisdome  of  Solomon  paraphrased," 
from  which  our  extracts  are  derived.  This  volume 
was  published  in  1597,  and  was  dedicated  to  Robert 

Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex. 



WROTE  and  printed  as  a  broadside,  "  An  Epitaphe 
upon  the  Death  of  Mayster  John  Veron,  preacher." 


WROTE  a  broadside  entitled,  "  A  Playne  Pathway  to 
Perfect  Rest,"  which  was  inscribed  to  Rowland  Hay- 
ward,  lord  mayor  of  London,  date  1571. 



THE  broadside  from  which  the  extract  under  this 
author's  name  is  derived,  is  not  dated ;  but  it  is  men 
tioned  by  Herbert  as  licensed  to  Henry  Rukham  in 



NIXON  was  the  author  of"  The  Christian  Navy,  etc.;" 
a  work  which  was  published  in  1602,  and  dedicated 
to  "John  Whitgift,  archbishop  of  Canterburie." 
Nixon  also  wrote  "Elisae's  Memoriall,"  an  extract 
from  which  is  printed  as  the  concluding  piece  of  these 



AMONG  other  works  he  wrote  "The  Diamond  of 
Deuotion,  cut  and  squared  into  six  seuerall  points : 
namely,  The  Footpath  to  Felicitie ;  A  Guide  to  God- 
lines;  The  Schoole  of  Skill;  A  Swarme  of  Bees;  A 
Plant  of  Pleasure ;  A  Grove  of  Grace.  Full  of  many 
fruitfull  lessons  availeable  to  the  leading  of  a  godly 
and  reformed  life."  This  volume,  which  is  part 
prose  and  part  poetry,  was  published  in  1602. 


ELUIDEN  wrote  "A  Newe-yeare's  Gift  to  the  rebel 
lious  persons  in  the  North  Partes  of  England,"  which 
was  published  in  1570,  and  which  is  not  mentioned 
by  any  bibliographer. 


THIS  author  wrote  "  An  Aunswere  to  the  Proclama 
tion  of  the  Rebels  in  the  North,"  which  was  "  im 
printed  by  William  Seres,"  and  published  in  1569. 



NELSON  was  the  author  of  a  work  entitled,  "  A  Short 
Discourse :  expressing  the  substaunce  of  all  the  late 
pretended  treasons  against  the  Queen's  Maiestie  and 
estates  of  this  realme,  by  sondry  traytors,  who  were 
executed  for  the  same  on  the  20  and  21  daies  of 
September  last  past,  1586.  Whereunto  is  adioyned 
A  Godly  Prayer  for  the  safetie  of  her  highnesse 
person,  her  honorable  counsaile,  and  all  other  her 
obedient  subiects." 

v        BRIEF    NOTICES   OF   THE   WRITERS,    ETC. 



THE  Epitaph  from  which  the  extract  given  in  these 
pages  is  derived  was  printed  as  a  broadside,  and  is  not 
dated  ;  but  it  is  mentioned  by  Herbert  as  licensed  to 
R.  Johnes  in  1-508. 


WROTE  an  "  Epitaph  on  Lady  Mary  Ramsey,  etc." 
which  was  printed  in  1602.  One  of  the  extracts  is 
from  that  work :  the  other  is  part  of  an  Epitaph  upon 
Bishop  Jewel,  which  was  printed  as  a  broadside  in 




FOOLES,  that  true  fayth  yet  neuer  had, 

Sayth  in  their  harts,  there  is  no  God  ! 

Fylthy  they  are  in  their  practyse, 

Of  them  not  one  is  godly  wyse. 

From  heauen  th'  Lorde  on  man  did  loke, 

To  know  what  wayes  he  undertoke  : 

All  they  were  vague,  and  went  a  straye, 

Not  one  he  founde  in  the  ryght  waye  ; 

In  hart  and  tunge  haue  they  deceyte, 

The  lyppes  throwe  fourth  a  poysened  bayte  ; 

Their  myndes  are  mad,  their  mouthes  are  wode, 

And  swift  they  be  in  shedynge  blode  : 

So  blynde  they  are,  no  truth  they  knowe, 

No  feare  of  God  in  them  wyll  growe. 

How  can  that  cruell  sort  be  good, 

Of  God's  dere  folcke  whych  sucke  the  blood? 

On  hym  ryghtly  shall  they  not  call ; 

Dyspaire  wyll  so  their  hartes  appall. 

At  all  tymes  God  is  with  the  just, 

Bycause  they  put  in  hym  their  trust. 

Who  shall  therefor  from  Syon  geue 

That  helthe  whych  hangeth  on  our  b'leue? 

When  God  shall  take  from  hys  the  smart, 

Then  wyll  Jacob  rejoice  in  hart. 

Prayse  to  God. 

EM/.    POKTS  ] 




The  Argument- 

Of  Sabbath  day  the  solemn  feast 

Doth  vs  excyte  by  rest, 
God's  mighty  workes  that  we  declare: — 

Loue  him  for  all  the  best. 

Bonum  est  confiteri. 

1  A  JorruLL  thyng  to  man  it  is, 

The  Lord  to  celebrate ; 
To  thy  good  name,  O  God  so  hye, 
Due  laudes  to  modulate : 

2  To  preach,  and  shew  thy  gentlenes 

In  early  mornyng  lyght; 
Thy  truth"  of  vvorde  to  testifie 
All  whole  by  length  of  nyght. 

3  Upon  the  psalme,  the  decachord, 

Upon  the  pleasant  lute, 
On  sounding,  good,  sweete  instruments, 
With  shaumes,  with  harpe,  with  flute. 

4  For  thou  hast  ioyed  my  fearefull  hart, 

0  Lord,  thy  workes  to  see  ; 
And  1  with  prayse  will  iust  rejoyce 
These  handy-workes  of  thee. 

5  How  glorious,  O  blessed  Lord, 

Be  these  the  factes  of  thine  ! 
Thy  thoughts  be  depe,  thy  counsayles  live, 
Inscrutable,  deuyne. 


12  The  true,  elect,  and  rygliteous  man, 

Shall  florishe  lyke  the  palme  ; 
As  Ceder  tree  in  Lybanus 

Hymselfe  shall  sprede  wyth  balme. 

13  Depe  planted,  they,  in  rootes  alvvay 

In  God's  swete  house  to  bide, 
Shall  florish  lyke,  in  both  the  courtes 
Of  this  our  God  and  guyde. 

]  4   In   age  most  sure,  they  shall  encrease 

Theyr  fruit  abundantly; 
Well  likying  they,  and  fat  shall  be, 
To  bear  most  fruitfully. 

15  That  is  to  say,  they  out  shall  preach 

This  Lord's  true  faithfulness, 
Who  is  my  strength  and  mighty  rocke  ; 
Who  hateth  unryghteousness. 


Almighty  God,  which  art  the  contynuall  ioye 
and  perpetuall  felicitye  of  all  thy  sayntes,  whom 
thou  doost  inwardly  water  with  the  dew  of  thy 
heauenly  grace,  whereby  thou  makest  them  to 
floryshe  like  the  palme  tree  in  the  celestiall  courts 
of  thy  Church :  we  besech  thee  that  thou  would 
so  discusse  from  vs  the  burdenous  weight  of  sinne, 
that  we  may  enioye  their  felowship.  Through 
Christ  etc. 




The  Argument. 

Though  David's  raigne  be  somewhat  ment, 
Yet  Christ  is  chiefe  here  prophecied, 
Who  was  both  kyng  in  regiment,  ^ 
And  priest  in  death-,  then  after  stied 
To  heaven  to  sit  as  priest  and  king, 
His  frendes  to  saue,  his  foes  to  wring, 

Wyth  death  the  sting. 

Dixit  Dominus  Domino. 
1  THE  Lord  most  liye,  the  Father,  thus 
Dyd  say  to  Christ,  my  Lord,  his  Sonne,— 
Set  tliou  in  power  most  glorious 
On  my  right  hand  aboue  the  sunne ; 
Until  I  make  thy  foes  euen  all 
Thy  low  footstoole  to  thee  to  fall 

As  subiectes  thrall 

2  The  Lord  shall  send  from  Zion  place 
Of  thy  great  power,  imperiall, 

The  royall  rod,  and  princely  mace, 
Whence  grace  shall  spring  origmall : 
Yea,  God  shall  say,— Thou  God  vprise, 
To  raigne  amids  thyne  enemies, 

In  princely  wyse. 

3  The  people,  glad,  in  hartes  delight, 
Shall  offer  giftes,  in  worship  free, 
As  conquest  day  of  thy  great  might 
In  shining  shew  of  sanctitie  : 

For  why  ?  the  dew  of  thy  swete  birth, 
As  morne  new  sprong,  dropth  ioyfull  mirth, 

So  scene  on  earth. 

4  The  Lord  did  sweare,  and  fast  decreed  ; 
He  will  hys  worde  no  tyme  repent, 
Which  sayd  thou  art  a  priest  indeed, 
A  kyngly  priest,  aye  permamant; 


Of  order  namde  Melchisedeck, 
Whom  peace  and  right  doth  ioyntly  decke 
As  God's  elect. 

5  The  Lord,  as  shield,  kepth  right  thy  hand 
To  make  thy  raigne  inuincible : 

He  shall  subdue   by  sea   and  land 
All  power  aduerse  most  forcible: 
He  shall  great  kyngs  and  Caesars  wound ; 
In  day  of  wrath,  all  them  confound 
By  fearefull  sound. 

6  He  Judgment  true  shall  exercise, 
As  iudge  among  the   Gentile  sect; 
All  places  he  shall  full  surprise, 
Wyth  bodies  dead,  on  earth  proiect. 
Abrode  he  shall  in  sunder  smyte 

The  heds  of  realmes  that  him  will  spyte, 
Or  scorne  hys  myght. 

7  Though  here  exilde,  he  strayth  as  bond, 
And  shall  in  way  but  water  drynke 

Of  homely  brooke  as  comth  to  hand, 
Pursued  to  death,  and  wysht  to  sinke  : 
Yet  he  for  thys  humilitie 
Shall  lift  hys  head  in  dignitie 


O  Lord,  the  eternall  Sonne  of  the  Father,  which 
wast  begotten  before  the  world  was  made,  and  art 
the  first  of  all  creatures,  we  lowly  beseche  thee 
that  where,  by  the  session  of  the  ryhte  hande  of 
thy  Father,  thou  subduest  thy  enemies,  so  make  vs 
to  subdue  all  the  dominion  of  sinne  rising  against 
vs,  to  be  made  meete  to  serue  thee  in  all  godliness: 
who  liuest  and  raignest  one  God  wyth  the  Father, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost.  Amen. 



LOVE,  lift  me  up  upon  thy  golden  wings 
From  this  base  world  unto  thy  heaven's  hight, 
Where  I  may  see  those  admirable  things 
Which  there  thou  workest  by  thy  soveraine  might, 
Farre  above  feeble  reach  of  earthly  sight, 
That  I  thereof  an  heavenly  hymne   may  sing 
Unto  the  God  of  Love,  high  heaven's  King. 

Many  lewd  layes  (ah  !  woe  is  me  the  more  !) 
In  praise  of  that  mad  fit  which  fooles  call  Love, 
I  have  in  th'  heate  o£  youth  made   heretofore, 
That  in  light  wits  did  loose  affection  move  : 
But  all  these  follies  now  I  do  reprove, 
And  turned  have  the  tenor  of  my  string, 
The  heavenly  prayses  of  true  Love  to  sing. 

And  ye,  that  wont  with  greedy  vaine  desire 
To  reade  my  fault,  and,  wondring  at  my  flame, 
i  To  warme  yourselves  at  my  wide  sparckling  fire, 
Sith  now  that  heat  is  quenched,  quench  my  blame, 
And  in  her  ashes  shrowd  my  dying  shame; 
For  who  my  passed  follies  now  pursewes, 
Beginnes  his  owne,   and  my  old  fault  renewes. 


al  things 

Are  now  contained,  found  any  being-place, 
Ere  flitting  Time  could  wag  his  eyas  wings 
About  that  mightie  bound  which  doth  embrace 
The  rolling  spheres,  and  parts  their  houres  by  space, 


That  High  Eternall  Powre,  which  now  doth  move 
In  all  these  things,  mov'd  in  its  selfe  by  love. 

It  lov'd  it  selfe,  because  it  selfe  was  faire ; 
(For  fair  is  lov'd ;)  and  of  it  self  begot 
Like  to  it  selfe  his  eldest  Sonne  and  Heire, 
Eternall,  pure,  and  voide  of  sinfull  blot, 
The  firstling  of  His  ioy,  in  whom  no  iot 
Of  love's  dislike  or  pride  was  to  be  found, 
Whom  He  therefore  with  equall  honour  crown'd. 

With  Him  he  raign'd,  before  all  time  prescribed, 
In  endlesse  glorie  and  immortall  might, 
Together  with  that  Third  from  them  derived, 
Most  wise,  most  holy,  most  almightie  Spright! 
Whose  kingdome's  throne  no  thoughts  of  earthly 


Can  comprehend,  much  lesse  my  trembling  verse 
With  equall  words  can  hope  it  to  reherse. 

Yet,  0  most  blessed  Spright !  pure  lampe  of  light, 
Eternall  spring  of  grace  and  wisedom  trew, 
Vouchsafe  to  shed  into  my  barren  spright 
Some  little  drop  of  thy  celestiall  dew, 
That  may  my  rymes  with  sweet  infuse  embrew, 
And  give  me  words  equall  unto  my  thought, 
To  tell  the  marveiles  by  thy  mercie  wrought. 

Yet  being  pregnant  still  with  powrefull  grace, 

And  full  of  fruitfull  Love,  that  loves  to  get 

Things  like  himselfe,  and  to  enlarge  his  race, 

His  second  brood,  though  not  of  powre  so  great, 

Yet  full  of  beautie,  next  He  did  beget 

An  infinite  increase  of  angels  bright, 

All  glistring  glorious  in  their  Maker's  light. 

To  them  the  heaven's  illimitable  hight 
(Not  this  round  heaven,  which  we  from  hence  be 


Adorn'd  with  thousand  lamps  of  burning  light, 
And  with  ten  thousand  gemmes  of  shyning  gold,) 
He  gave  as  their  inheritance  to  hold, 
That  they  might  serve  Him  in  eternal!  blis, 
And  be  partakers  of  these  ioyes  of  His. 

There  they  in  their  trinall  triplicities 
About  Him  wait,  and   on  His  will   depend, 
Either  with  nimble  wings  to  cut  the  skies, 
When   He  them  on   His  messages  doth  send, 
Or  on   His  owne  dread  presence  to  attend, 
Where  they  behold  the  glorie  of  His  light, 
And  caroirhymnes  of  love  both  day  and  night. 

Both  day  and  night  is  unto  them  all  one; 
For  He  His  beames   doth  unto  them  extend, 
That  darknesse  there  appeareth  never  none ; 
Ne  hath  their  day,  ne  hath  their  blisse,  an  end, 
But  there  their  termelesse  time  in  pleasure  spend  : 
Ne  ever  should  their  happinesse  decay, 
Had  not  they  dar'd  their  Lord  to  disobay. 

But  pride,  impatient  of  long  resting  peace, 
Did  puffe  them  up  with  greedy  bold  ambition, 
That  they  gan  cast  their  state  "how  to  increase 
Above  the  fortune  of  their  first  condition, 
And  sit  in  God's  own  seat  without  commission  : 
The  brightest  angel,   even  the  child  of  Light, 
Drew  millions  more  against  their  God  to  fight. 

Th'  Almighty,  seeing  their  so  bold  assay, 
Kindled  the  flame  of  His  consuming  yre, 
And  with  His  onely  breath  them  blevy  away 
From  heaven's  hight,  to  which  they  did  aspyre, 
To  deepest  hell  and  lake  of  damned  fyre ; 
Where  they  in  darknesse  and  dread  horror  dwell, 
Hating  the  happie  light  from  which  they  fell. 


So  that  next  off-spring  of  the  Maker's  love. 
Next  to  Himselfe  in  glorious  degree, 
Degendering  to  hate,  fell  from  above 
Through  pride,,  (for  pride  and  love  may  ill  agree,) 
And  now  of  sinne  to  all  ensample  bee  : 
How  then  can  sinnful  flesh  it  selfe  assure, 
S'ith  purest  angels  fell  to  be  impure  ? 

But  that  Eternall  Fount  of  love  and  grace, 
Still  flowing  forth  His  goodnesse  unto  all, 
Now  seeing  left  a  waste  and  emptie  place 
In  His  wyde  pallace,  through  those  angels'  fall, 
Cast  to  supply  the  same,  and  to  enstall 
A  new  unknowen  colony  therein, 
Whose  root  from  earth's  base  groundworke  should 

Therefore  of  clay,  base,  vile,  and  next  to  nought, 
Yet  form'd  by  wondrous  skill,  and  by  His  might 
According  to  an  heavenly  patterne  wrought, 
Which  He  had  fashioned  in  his  wise  foresight, 
He  man  did  make,  and  breath'd  a  living  spright 
Into  his  face,  most  beautifull  and  fayre, 
Endewd  with  wisedome's  riches,  heavenly,  rare. 

Such  He  him  made,  that  he  resemble  might 
Himselfe,  as  mortall  thing  immortall  could; 
Him  to  be  lord  of  every  living  wight 
He  made  by  love  out  of  his  owne  like  mould, 
In  whom  He  might  His  mightie  selfe  behould : 
For  Love  doth  love  the  thing  belov'd  to  see, 
That  like  it  selfe  in  lovely  shape  may  bee. 

But  man,  forgetfull  of  his  Maker's  grace 
No  lesse  than  Angels,  whom  he  did  ensew, 
Fell  from  the  hope  of  promist  heavenly  place 
Into  the  mouth  of  Death,  to  sinners  dew, 
And  all  his  offspring  into  thraldome  threw, 


Where  they  for  ever  should  in  bonds  remaine 
Of  never-dead  yet  ever-dying  paine : 

Till  that  great  Lord  of  Love,  which  him  at  first 

Made  of  meere  love,  and  after  liked  well, 

Seeing  him  lie  like  creature  long  accurst 

In  that  deep  horror  of  despeyred  hell, 

Him,  wretch,  in  doole  would  let  no  longer  dwell, 

But  cast  out  of  that  bondage  to  redeeme, 

And  pay  the  price,  all  were  his  debt  extreeme. 

Out  of  the  bosome  of  eternall  blisse, 

In  which  He  reigned  with  His  glorious  Syre, 

He  downe  descended,  like  a  most  demisse 

And  abiect  thrall,  in  fleshes  fraile  attyre, 

That  He  for  him  might  pay  sinne's  deadly  hyre, 

And  him  restore  unto  that  happie  state 

In  which  he  stood  before  his  haplesse  fate. 

In  flesh  at  first  the  guilt  committed  was, 
Therefore  in  flesh  it  must  be  satisfyde  ; 
Nor  spirit,  nor  angel,  though  they  man  surpas, 
Could  make  amends  to  God  for  man's  misguyde, 
But  onely  man  himselfe,  who  selfe  did  slyde: 
So,  taking  flesh  of  sacred  virgin's  wombe, 
For  man's  deare  sake  He  did  a  man  become. 

And  that  most  blessed  bodie,  which  was  borne 
Without  all  blemish  or  reprochfull  blame, 
He  freely  gave  to  be  both  rent  and  torne 
Of  cruell  hands,  who  with  despightfull  shame 
Bevy  ling  Him,  that  them  most  vile  became, 
At  length  Him  nayled  on  a  gallow-tree, 
And  slew  the  lust  by  most  uniust  decree. 
O  huge  and  most  unspeakeable  impression 
Of  Love's  deep  wound,  that  pierst  the  piteous  hart 
Of  that  deare  Lord  with  so  entyre  affection, 

HYMN    OF    HEAVENLY    LOVE.  11 

And,  sharply  launcing  every  inner  part, 
Dolours  of  death  into  His  soule  did  dart, 
Doing  him  die  that  never  it  deserved, 
To  free  His  foes,  that  from  His  heast  had  swerved ! 
What  hart  can  feel  least  touch  of  so  sore  launch, 
Or  thought  can  think  the  depth  of  so  deare  wound  ? 
Whose  bleeding  sourse  their  streames  yet  never 


But  stil  do  flow,  and  freshly  still  redownd, 
To  heale  the  sores  of  sinfull  soules  unsound, 
And  dense  the  guilt  of  that  infected  cryme 
Which  was  enrqoted  in  all  fleshly  slyme. 
O  blessed  Well  of  Love !  O  Floure  of  Grace ! 
O  glorious  Morning-Starre  !  0  Lampe  of  Light ! 
Most  lively  image  of  thy  Father's  face, 
Eternal  King  of  Glorie,   Lord  of  Might, 
Meeke  Lambe  of  God,  before  all  worlds  behight, 
How  can  we  Thee  requite  for  all  this  good? 
Or  what  can  prize  that  Thy  most  precious  blood  ? 
Yet  nought  Thou  ask'st  in  lieu  of  all  this  love, 
But  love  of  us,  for  guerdon  of  thy  paine  : 
Ay  me  !  what  can  us  lesse  than  that  behove  ? 
Had  He  required  life  for  us  againe, 
Had  it  beene  wrong  to  ask  His  owne  with  gaine  ? 
He  gave  us  life,  He  it  restored  lost ; 
Then  life  were  least,  that  us  so  little  cost. 
But  He  our  life  hath  left  unto  us  free  ; 
Free  that  was  thrall,  and  blessed  that  was  band; 
Ne  ought  demaunds  but  that  we  loving  bee, 
As  He  Himselfe  hath  lov'd  us  afore-hand, 
And  bound  therto  with  an  eternall  band, 
Him  first  to  love  that  was  so  dearely  bought, 
And  next  our  brethren,  to  his  image  wrought. 

Him  first  to  love  great  right  and  reason  is, 
Who  first  to  us  our  life  and  being  gave, 


And  after,  when  we  fared  had  amisse, 
Us  wretches  from  the  second  death  did  save; 
And  last,  the  food  of  life,  which  now  we  have, 
Even  He   Himselfe,  in  his  dear  sacrament, 
To  feede  our  hungry  soules,  unto  us  lent. 
Then  next,  to  love  our  brethren,  that  were  made 
Of  that  selfe  mould,  and  that  self  Maker's  hand, 
That  we,  and  to  the  same  againe  shall  fade, 
Where  they  shall  have  like  heritage  of  land, 
However  here  on  higher  steps  we  stand, 
Which  also  were  with  selfe-same  price  redeemed 
That  we,  however  of  us  light  esteemed. 
And  were  they  not,  yet  since  that  loving  Lord 
Commanded  us  to  love  them  for  His  sake, 
Even  for  His  sake,  and  for   His  sacred  word, 
Which  in  His  last  bequest  He  to  us  spake, 
We  should  them  love,  and  with  their  needs  partake; 
Knowing  that,   whatsoe'er  to  them  we   give, 
We  give  to  Him   by  whom  we  all  doe  live. 
Such  mercy  He  by  His  most  holy  reede 
Unto  us  taught,   and  to  approve  it  trew, 
Ensampled  it  by  His  most  righteous  deede, 
Shewing  us  mercie,  (miserable  crew  !) 
That  we  the  like  should  to  the  wretches  shew, 
And  love  our  brethren  ;    thereby  to  approve 
How  much  Himselfe   that  loved  us  we  love. 
Then  rouze  thyselfe,  O  Earth  !  out  of  thy  soyle, 
In  which  thou  wallowest  like  to  filthy  swyne, 
And  doest  thy  mynd  in  durty  pleasures  moyle, 
Unmindfull  of  that  dearest  Lord  of  thyne  ; 
Lift  up  to  Him  thy  heavie  clouded  eyne, 
That  thou  this  soveraine  bountie  mayst  behold, 
And  read,  through  love,  His  mercies  manifold. 
Beginne  from  first,  where  he  encradled  was 
In  simple  cratch,  wrapt  in  a  wad  of  hay 

HYMN    OF    HEAVENLY    LOVE.  13 

Betvveene  the  toylfull  oxe  and  humble  asse, 
And  in  what  rags,  and  in  how  base  aray, 
The  glory  of  our  heavenly  riches  lay, 
When   Him  the  silly  shepheards  came  to  see, 
Whom  greatest  princes  sought  on  lowest  knee 
From   thence  reade  on   the  storie  of  His  life, 
His  humble  carriage,   His  unfaulty  wayes, 
His  cancred  foes,  His  fights,  His  toyle,  His  strife, 
His  paines,   His  povertie,  His  sharpe  assayes, 
Through  which  he  past   His  miserable  dayes, 
Offending  none  and  doing  good  to  all, 
Yet  being  malist  both  by  great  and  small. 
And  look  at  last,  how  of  most  wretched  wights 
He  taken  was,  betrayd,  and  false  accused; 
How  with  most  scornfull  taunts  and  fell  despights 
He  was  revyld,  disgrast,   and  foule  abused  ; 
How  scourgd,  how  crownd,  how  buffeted,  how 

brused ; 

And  lastly,  how  twixt  robbers  crucifyde 
With  bitter  wounds  through  hands,  through  feet, 

and  syde. 

Then  let  thy  flinty  hart,  that  feeles  no  paine, 
Empierced  be  with  pittifull  remorse, 
And  let  thy  bowels  bleede  in  every  vaine, 
At  sight  of  His  most  sacred  heavenly  corse, 
So  torne  and  mangled  with  malicious  forse  ; 
And  let  thy  soule,  whose  sins  His  sorrows  wrought, 
Melt  into  teares,  and  grone  in  grieved  thought. 
With  sence  whereof,  whilest  so  thy  softened  spirit 
Is  inly  toucht,  and  humbled  with  meeke  zeale 
Through  meditation  of  His  endlesse  merit, 
Lift  up  thy  mind  to  th'  Author  of  thy  weale, 
And  to  His  soveraine  mercie  doe  appeale : 
Learne  Him  to  love  that  loved  thee  so  deare, 
And  in  thy  brest  His  blessed  image  beare. 


With  all  thy  hart,  with  all  thy  soule  and  mind, 
Thou  must  Him  love,  and  His  beheasts  embrace  : 
All  other  loves,  with  which  the  world  doth  blind 
Weake  fancies,  and  stirre  up  affections  base, 
Thou  must  renounce  and  utterly  displace  ; 
And  give  thyselfe  unto  Him  full  and  free, 
That  full  and  freely  gave  Himselfe  to  thee. 
Then  shalt  thou  feele  thy  spirit  so  possest 
And  ravisht  with  devouring  great  desire 
Of  His  dear  selfe,  that  shall  thy  feeble  brest 
Inflame  with  love,  and  set  thee  all  on  fire 
With  burning  zeale,  through  every  part  entire, 
That  in  no  earthly  thing  thou  shalt  delight, 
But  in  His  sweet  and  amiable  sight. 
Thenceforth  all  world's  desire  will  in  thee  dye; 
And  all  earthe's  glorie,  on  which  men  do  gaze, 
Seeme  durt  and  drosse  in  thy  pure-sighted  eye, 
Compar'd  to 'that  celestiall  beautie's  blaze. 
Whose  glorious  beames  all  fleshly  sense  doth  daze 
With  admiration  of  their  passing  light, 
Blinding  the  eyes,  and  Kunming  the  spnght. 
Then  shall  thy  ravisht  soul  inspired  bee 
With  heavenly  thoughts,  farre  above  humane  skil, 
And  thy  bright  radiant  eyes  shall  plainely  see 
Th'  idee  of  His  pure  glorie  present  still 
Before  thy  face,  that  all  thy  spirits  shall  fill 
With  sweete  enragement  of  celestiall  love, 
Kindled  through  sight  of  those  faire  things  above. 



RAPT  with  the  rage  of  mine  own  ravisht  thought, 
Through  contemplation  of  those  goodly  sights, 
And  glorious  images  in  heaven  wrought, 
Whose  wondrous  beauty,  breathing  sweet  delights, 
Do  kindle  love  in  high  conceipted  sprights; 
I  faine  to  tell  the  things  that  I  behold, 
But  feele  my  wits  to  faile,  and  tongue  to  fold. 

Vouchsafe  then,  O  Thou  most  Almightie  Spright, 
From  whom  all  guifts  of  wit  and  knowledge  flow, 
To  shed  into  my  breast  some  sparkling  light 
Of  Thine  eternall  truth,  that  I  may  shew 
Some  little  beames  to  mortall  eyes  *  below 
Of  that  immortal  Beautie,  there  with  Thee, 
Which  in  my  weake  distraughted  mynd  I  see; 

That  with  the  glorie  of  so  goodly  sight 

The  hearts  of  men,  which  fondly  here  admyre 

Faire  seeming  shewes,  and  feed  on  vaine  delight, 

Transported  with  celestiall  desyre 

Of  those  faire  formes,  may  lift  themselves  up  hyer, 

And  learne  to  love,  with  zealous  humble  dewty, 

Th'  Eternall  Fountaine  of  that  heavenly  Beauty. 

Beginning  then  below,  with  th'  easie  vew 

Of  this  base  world,  subiect  to  fleshly  eye, 

From  thence  to  mount  aloft,   by  order  dew, 

To  contemplation  of  th'  immortall  sky  ; 

Of  the  soare  faulcon  so  I  learne  to  flye, 

That  flags  awhile  her  fluttering  wings  beneath, 

Till  she  her  selfe  for  stronger  flight  can  breath. 

Then  looke,  who  list  thy  gazefull  eyes  to  feed 
With  sight  of  that  is  faire  ;  looke  on  the  frame 
Of  this  wyde  universe,  and  therein  reed 


The  endlesse  kinds  of  creatures,  which  by  name 
Thou  canst  not  count,  much  less  their   natures 

aime ; 

All  which  are  made  with  wondrous  wise  respect, 
And  all  with  admirable  beautie  deckt. 
First,  th'  Earth,  on  adamantine  pillers  founded 
Amid  the  Sea,  engirt  with  brasen  bands  ; 
Then  th'  Aire  still  flitting,  but  yet  firmely  bounded 
On  everie  side,  with  pyles  of  flaming  brands,, 
IS  ever  consum'd,  nor  quencht  with  mortall  hands; 
And,   last,  that  mightie   shining  crystall  wall, 
Wherewith  he  hath  encompassed  this  all. 
By  view  whereof  it  plainly  may  appeare, 
That  still  as  everie  thing  doth  upward  tend, 
And  further  is  from  earth,  so  still  more  cleare 
And  faire  it  growes,  till  to  his  perfect  end 
Of  purest  Beautie  it  at  last  ascend ; 
Ayre  more  then  water,  fire  much  more  then  ayre, 
And  heaven  then  fire,  appeares  more  pure  and  fayre. 
Looke  thou  no  further,  but  affixe  thine  eye 
On  that  bright  shynie  round  still  moving  masse, 
The  house  of  Blessed  God,  which  men  call  Skye, 
All  sow'd  with  glistring  stars  more  thicke  than 


Whereof  each  other  doth  in  brightnesse  passe, 
But  those  two  most,  which,  ruling  night  and  day, 
As  king  and  queene,  the  heaven's  empire  sway. 
And  tell  me  then,  what  hast  thou  ever  seene 
That  to  their  beautie  may  compared  bee  ? 
Or  can  the  sight  that  is  most  sharpe  and  keene 
Endure  their  captain's  flaming  head  to  see  ? 
How  much  lesse  those,  much  higher  in  degree, 
And  so  much  fairer,  and  much  more  than  these, 
As  these  are  fairer  then  the  land  and  seas  ? 


For  farre  above  these  heavens,  which  here  we  see, 
Be  others  farre  exceeding  these  in  light : 
Not  bounded,  not  corrupt,  as  these  same  bee, 
But  infinite  in  largenesse  and  in  hight, 
Unmoving,  uncorrupt,  and  spotlesse  bright, 
That  need  no  sunne  t'  illuminate  their  spheres, 
But  their  owne  native  light  farre  passing  theirs. 

And  as  these  heavens  still  by  degrees  arize, 
Until  they  come  to  their  first  Mover's  bound, 
That  in  his  mightie  compasse  doth  comprize 
And  carrie  all  the  rest  with  him  around; 
So  those  likewise  doe  by  degrees  redound 
And  rise  more  faire,  till  they  at  last  arive 
To  the  most  faire,  whereto  they  all  do  strive. 

Faire  is  the  heaven  where  happy  soules  have  place 

In  full  enioyment  of  felicitie, 

Whence  they  doe  still  behold  the  glorious  face 

Of  the  Divine  Eternall  Maiestie  : 

More  faire  is  that,  where  those  Idees  on  hie 

Enraunged  be,  which  Plato  so  admyred, 

And  pure  Intelligences  from  God  inspyred. 

Yet  fairer  is  that  heaven,  in  which  do  raine 
The  soveraigne  Powres,  and  mightie  Potentates, 
Which  in  their  high  protections  doe  containe 
All  mortall  princes  and  imperiall  states  ; 
And  fayrer  yet,  where  as  the  royall  Seates 
And  heavenly  Dominations  are  set, 
From  whom  all  earthly  governance  is  fet. 

Yet  farre  more  faire  be  those  bright  Cherubins, 
Which  all  with  golden  wings  are  overdight, 
And  those  eternall  burning  Seraphins, 
Which  from  their  faces  dart  out  fierie  light : 
Yet  fairer  then  they  both,  and  much  more  bright, 

[ELIZ.  POETS.]  2 


Be  th'  Angels  and  Archangels,  which  attend 
On  God's  owne  person  without  rest  or  end. 

These  thus  in  faire  each  other  farre  excelling, 
As  to  the  Highest  they  approach  more  near, 
Yet  is  that  Highest  farre  beyond  all  telling 
Fairer  then  all  the  rest  which  there  appeare, 
Though  all  their  beauties  ioyned  together  were: 
How  then  can  mortall  tongue  hope  to   expresse 
The  image  of  such  endlesse  perfectnesse  ? 

Cease  then,  my  tongue  !  and  lend  unto  my  mynd 
Leave  to  bethinke  how  great  that  Beautie  is, 
Whose  utmost  parts  so  beautifull  I  fynd; 
How  much  more  those  essentiall  parts  of  His, 
His  truth,  His  love,  His  wisdome,  and  His  blis, 
His  grace,  Hisdoome,  His  mercy,  and  His  might, 
By  which  He  lends  us  of  Himselfe  a  sight ! 

Those  unto  all  He  daily  doth  display, 

And  shew  himselfe  in  th'  image  of  His  grace, 

As  in  a  looking- glasse,  through  which  He  may 

Be  seene  of  all  His  creatures  vile  and  base, 

That  are  unable  else  to  see  His  face,, 

His  glorious  face  !  which  glistereth  else  so  bright, 

That  th' angels  selves  cannot  endure  His  sight. 

But  we,  fraile  wights!  whose  sight  cannot  sustaine 
The  sun's  bright  beames  when  he  on  us  doth  shyne, 
But  that  their  points  rebutted  backe  againe 
Are  duld,  how  can  we  see  with  feeble  eyne 
The  glorie  of  that  Maiestie  Divine, 
In  sight  of  whom  both  sun  and  moone  are  darke, 
Compared  to  His  least  resplendent  sparke  ? 

The  meanes  therefore,   which  unto  us  is  lent 
Him  to  behold,  is  on  His  workes  to  looke, 
Which  He  hath  made  in  beauty  excellent, 


And  in  the  same,  as  in  a  brasen  booke, 
To  read  enregistred  in  every  nooke 
His  goodnesse,  which  His  Beautie  doth  declare; 
For  all  thats  good  is  beautifull  and  faire. 

Thence  gathering  plumes  of  perfect  speculation, 
To  impe  the  wings  of  thy  high  flying  mynd, 
Mount  up  aloft  through  heavenly  contemplation 
From  this  darke  world,  whose  damps  the  soule 

do  blynd ; 

And,  like  the  native  brood  of  eagles  kynd, 
On  that  bright  Sunne  of  Glorie  fixe  thine  eyes, 
Clear 'd  from  grosse  mists  of  fraile  infirmities. 

Humbled  with  feare  and  awfull  reverence, 

Before  the  footestoole  of  His  Maiestie 

Throwe  thy  selfe  downe,  with  trembling  innocence, 

Ne  dare  looke  up  with  corruptible  eye 

On  the  dred  face  of  that  great  Deity, 

For  feare,  lest  if  He  chaunce  to  look  on  thee, 

Thou  turne  to  nought,  and  quite  confounded  be. 

But  lowly  fall  before  His  mercie  seate, 
Close  covered  with  the  Lambes  integrity 
From  the  iust  wrath  of  His  avengefull  threate, 
That  sits  upon  the  righteous  throne  on  hy : 
His  throne  is  built  upon  Eternity, 
More  firme  and  durable  then  steele  or  brasse, 
Or  the  hard  diamond,  which  them  both  doth  passe. 

His  scepter  is  the  rod  of  Eigliteousnesse, 
With  which  He  bruseth  all  His  foes  to  dust, 
And  the  great  Dragon  strongly  doth  represse 
Under  the  rigour  of  His  iudgment  iust: 
His  seate  is  Truth,  to  which  the  faithfull  trust, 
From  whence  proceed  her  beames  so  pure  and 

That  all  about  Him  sheddeth  glorious  light : 



Light,  farre  exceeding  that  bright  blazing  sparke 
Which  darted  is  from  Titan's  flaming  head, 
That  with  his  beanies  enlumineth  the  darke 
And  dampish  air,  vvherby  al  things  are  red ; 
Whose  nature  yet  so  much  is  marvelled 
Of  mortall  wits,  that  it  doth  much  amaze 
The  greatest  wisards  which  thereon  do  gaze. 

But  that  immortall  light,  which  there  doth  shine, 
Is  many  thousand  times  more  bright,  more  cleare, 
More  excellent,  more  glorious,  more  divine, 
Through  which  to  God  all  mortall  actions  here, 
And  even  the  thoughts  of  men,  do  plaine  appeare; 
For  from  th'  Eternall  Truth  it  doth  proceed, 
Through  heavenly  vertue  which  her  beames  doe 

With  the  great  glorie  of  that  wondrous  light 
His  throne  is  all  encompassed  around, 
And  hid  in  His  owne  brightnesse  from  the  sight 
Of  all  that  looke  thereon  with  eyes  unsound  ; 
And  underneath  His  feet  are  to  be  found 
Thunder,  and  lightning,  and  tempestuous  fyre, 
The  instruments  of  His  avenging  yre. 

There  in  His  bosome  Sapience  doth  sit, 
The  soveraine  dearling  of  the  Deity, 
Clad  like  a  queene  in  royall  robes,  most  fit 
For  so  great  powre  and  peerelesse  majesty, 
And  all  with  gemmes  and  iewels  gorgeously 
Adornd,  that  brighter  then  the  starres  appeare, 
And    make    her  native   brightnes    seem   more 

And  on  her  head  a  crown  of  purest  gold 
Is  set,  in  signe  of  highest  soverainty ; 
And  in  her  hand  a  scepter  she  doth  hold, 


With  which  she  rules  the  house  of  God  on  hy, 
And  menageth  the  ever  moving  sky, 
And  in  the  same  these  lower  creatures  all 
Subjected  to  her  powre  imperiall. 

Both  heaven  and  earth  obey  unto  her  will, 
And  all  the  creatures  which  they  both  contain  e ; 
For  of  her  fulnesse  which  the  world  doth  fill 
They  all  partake,  and  do  in  state  remaine 
As  their  great  Maker  did  at  first  ordain  e, 
Through  observation  of  her  high  beheast, 
By  which  they  first  were  made,  and  still  increast. 

The  fairnesse  of  her  face  no  tongue  can  tell ; 
For  she  the  daughters  of  all  wemen's  race, 
And  angels  eke,  in  beautie  doth  excell, 
Sparkled  on  her  from  God's  owne  glorious  face, 
And  more  increast  by  her  owne  goodly  grace, 
That  it  doth  farre  exceed  all  humane  thought, 
Ne  can  on  earth  compared  be  to  ought. 

Ne  could  that  painter  (had  he  lived  yet), 
Which  pictured  Venus  with  so  curious  quill, 
That  all  posteritie  admyred  it, 
Have  pourtray'd  this,  for  all  his  maistring  skill  ; 
Ne  she  her  selfe,  had  she  remained  still, 
And  were  as  faire  as  fabling  wits  do  fayne, 
Could  once  come  neare  this  Beauty  soverayne. 

But  had  those  wits,  the  wonders  of  their  dayes, 
Or  that  sweete  Teian  poet,  which  did  spend 
His  plenteous  veine  in  setting  forth  her  praise, 
Seen  but  a  glimse  of  this  which  I  pretend, 
How  wondrously  would  he  her  face  commend, 
Above  that  idole  of  his  fayning  thought, 
That  all  the  world  should  with  his  rimes  be  fraught ! 

How  then  dare  I,  the  novice  of  his  art, 
Presume  to  picture  so  divine  a  wight, 


Or  hope  t'  expresse  her  least  perfection's  part, 
Whose  beautie  filles  the  heavens  with  her  light, 
And  darkes  the  earth  with  shadow  of  her  sight  ? 
Ah,  gentle  Muse  !  thou  art  too  weake  and  faint 
The  pourtraict  of  so  heavenly  hew  to  paint. 

Let  angels,  which  her  goodly  face  behold 
And  see  at  will,  her  soveraigne  praises  sing, 
And  those  most  sacred  mysteries  unfold 
Of  that  faire  love  of  mightie  Heaven's  King : 
Enough  is  me  t'  admyre  so  heavenly  thing, 
And  being  thus  with  her  huge  love  possest, 
In  th'  only  wonder  of  her  selfe  to  rest. 

But  whoso  may,  thrise  happie  man  him  hold, 

Of  all  on  earth  whom  God  so  much  cloth  grace, 

And  lets  his  owne   Beloved  to  behold: 

For  in  the  view  of  her  celestiall  face 

All  ioy,  all  blisse,  all  happinesse,  have  place ; 

Ne  ought  on  earth  can  want  unto  the  wight, 

Who  of  her  selfe  can  win  the  wishfull  sight. 

For  she,  out  of  her  secret  threasury, 
Plentie  of  riches  forth  on  him  will  powre, 
Even  heavenly  riches,  which  there  hidden  ly 
Within  the  closet  of  her  chastest  bowre, 
Th'  eternall  portion  of  her  precious  dowre, 
Which  Mighty  God  hath  given  to  her  free, 
And  to  all  those  which  thereof  worthy  bee. 

None  thereof  worthy  be,  but  those  whom  shee 
Vouchsafeth  to  her  presence  to  receave, 
And  letteth  them  her  lovely  face  to  see ; 
Whereof  such  wondrous  pleasures  they  conceave, 
And  sweete  contentment,  that  it  doth  bereave 
Their  soul  of  sense,  through  infinite  delight, 
And  them  transport  from  flesh  into  the  spright : 


In  which  they  see  such  admirable  things, 
As  carries  them  into  an  extasy, 
And  heare  such  heavenly  notes  and  carolings 
Of  God's  high  praise,  that  filles  the  brasen  sky  ; 
And  feele  such  ioy  and  pleasure  inwardly, 
That  maketh  them  all  worldly  cares  forget, 
And  onely  thinke  on  that  before  them  set. 

Ne  from  thenceforth  doth  any  fleshly  sense, 
Or  idle  thought  of  earthly  things,  remaine ; 
But  all  that  earst  seemd  sweet  seemes  now  offense, 
And  all  that  pleased  earst  now  seemes  to  paine  : 
Their  ioy,  their  comfort,  their  desire,  their  gaine, 
Is  fixed  all  on  that  which  now  they  see ; 
All  other  sights  but  fayned  shadowes  bee. 

And  that  faire  lampe,  which  useth  to  enflame 
The  hearts  of  men  with  selfe-consuming  fyre, 
Thenceforth  seemes  fowle,  and  full  of  sinfull  blame ; 
And  all  that  pompe  to  which  proud  minds  aspyre 
By  name  of  Honor,  and  so   much  desyre, 
Seemes  to  them  basenesse,  and  all  riches  drosse, 
And  all  mirth  sadnesse,  and  all  lucre  losse. 

So  full  their  eyes  are  of  that  glorious  sight. 

And  senses  fraught   with  such  satietie, 

That  in  nought  else  on   earth  they  can  delight, 

But  in  th'  aspect  of  that  felicitie, 

Which  they  have  written  in  theyr  inward  ey ; 

On  which  they  feed,  and  in  theyr  fastened  mynd 

All  happie  ioy  and  full  contentment  fynd. 

Ah  then,  my  hungry  Soule  !  which  long  hast  fed 
On  idle  fancies  of  thy  foolish  thought, 
And,  with  false  Beautie's  flattring  bait  misled 
Hast  after  vaine  deceiptfull  shadowes  sought, 
Which  all  are  fled,  and  now  have  left  thee  nought 


But  late  repentance  through  thy  follie's  prief; 
Ah  !    ceasse  to  gaze  on  matter  of  thy  grief : 

And  looke  at  last  up  to  that  Soveraigne  Light, 
From  whose  pure  beams  al  perfect  Beauty  springs, 
That  kindleth  love  in  every  godly  spright, 
Even  the  love  of  God;  which  loathing  brings 
Of  this  vile  world  and  these  gay-seeming  things; 
With  whose  sweet  pleasures  being  so  possest. 
Thy  straying  thoughts  henceforth  for  ever  rest. 


I  SAW  an  Image,  all  of  massie   gold, 

Placed  on  high  upon  an  altare  faire, 

That  all  which  did  the  same  from  farre  beholde 

Might  worship  it,  and  fall  on  lowest  staire. 

Not  that  great  Idoll  might  with  this  compaire, 

To  which  th'  Assyrian  Tyrant  would  have  made 

The  holie  brethren  falslie  to  have  praid. 

But  th'  altare,  on  the  which  this  Image  staid, 

Was  (O  great  pitie !)  built  of  brickie  clay, 

That  shortly  the  foundation  decaid, 

With  showres  of  heaven  and  tempests  worne  away  ; 

Then  downe  it  fell,  and  low  in  ashes  lay, 

Scorned  of  everie  one,  which  by  it  went ; 

That  I,  it  seeing,  dearelie  did  lament. 


Next  unto  this  a  statelie  Towre  appeared, 
Built  of  all  richest  stone  that  might  bee  found, 
And  nigh  unto  the  heavens  in  height  upreared, 
But  placed  on  a  spot  of  sandie  ground  : 
Not  that  great  Towre,  which  is  so  much  renownd 

THE    RUINS    OF    TIME.  25 

For  tongues'  confusion  in  Holie  Writ, 
King  Minus'  worke,  might  be  compar'd  to  it. 
But  0  vaine  labours  of  terrestriall  wit, 
That  buildes  so  stronglie  on  so  frayle  a  soyle, 
As  with  each  storme  does  fall  away,  and  flit. 
And  gives  the  fruite  of  all  your  travailes'  toyle, 
To  be  the  pray  of  Tyme,  and  Fortune's  spoyle ! 
I  saw  this  Towre  fall  sodainelie  to  dust, 
That  nigh  with  griefe  thereof  my  heart  was  brust. 


Then  did  I  see  a  pleasant  Paradize, 
Full  of  sweete  flowres  and  daintiest  delights, 
Such  as  on  earth  man  could  not  more  devize, 
With    pleasures    choyce  to  feed    his   cheerefull 

sprights : 

Not  that  which  Merlin  by  his  magicke  slights 
Made  for  the  gentle  Squire,  to  entertaine 
His  fayre  Belphcebe,  could  this  gardine  staine. 
But  O  short  pleasure  bought  with  lasting  paine ! 
Why  will  hereafter  anie  flesh  delight 
In  earthlie  blis,  and  ioy  in  pleasures  vaine, 
Since  that  I  sawe  this  gardine  wasted  quite, 
That  where  it  was  scarce  seemed  anie  sight  ? 
That  I,  which  once  that  beautie  did  beholde, 
Could  not  from  teares  my  melting  eyes  with-holde. 


Soone  after  this  a  Giaunt  came  in  place, 
Of  wondrous  powre,  and  of  exceeding  stature, 
That  none  durst  vewe  the  horror  of  his  face  ; 
Yet  was  he  milde  of  speach,  and  meeke  of  nature  : 
Not  he,  which  in  despight  of  his  Creatour 
With  railing  tearmes  defied  the  Jewish  hoast 
Might  with  this  mightie  one  in  hugenes  boast ; 
For  from  the  one  he  could  to  th'  other  coast 


Stretch  his  strong  thighes,  and  th'  ocean  over- 

And  reach  his  hand  into  his  enemies'  hoast. 
But  see  the  end  of  pompe  and  fleshlie  pride! 
One  of  his  feete  tmwares  from  him  did  slide, 
That  downe  hee  fell  into  the  deepe  abisse, 
Where  drownd  with  him  is  all  his  earthlie  blisse. 


Then   did  I  see  a  Bridge,  made  all  of  golde, 
Over  the  sea  from  one  to  other  side, 
Withouten  prop  or  pillour  it  t'  upholde, 
But  like  the  coulored  rainbowe  arched  wide  : 
Not  that  great  Arche,  with  Traian  edifide, 
To  be  a  wonder  to  all  age  ensuing, 
Was  matchable  to  this   in  equall  vewing. 
But,  ah!  what  bootes  it  to  see  earthlie  thing 
In  glorie    or  in  greatnes  to  excell, 
8ith  time  doth  greatest  things  to  ruine  bring  ? 
This  goodlie  Bridge,  one  foote  not  fastned  well, 
Gan  faile,  and  all  the  rest  downe  shortlie  fell: 
Ne  of  so  brave  a  building  ought  remained, 
That  griefe  thereof  my  spirite  greatly  pained. 


I  saw  two  Beares,  as  white  as  anie  milke, 
Lying  together  in  a  mightie  cave, 
Of  milde  aspect,  and  haire  as  soft  as  silke, 
That  salvage  nature  seemed  not  to  have, 
Nor  after  greedie  spoyle  of  bloud  to  crave : 
Two  fairer  beasts  might  not  elswhere  be  found, 
Although  the  compast  world  were  sought  around. 
But  what  can  long  abide  above  this  ground 
In  state  of  blis,  or  stedfast  happinesse  ? 
The  cave,  in  which   these  Beares  lay  sleeping 

THE    RUINS    OF    TIME.  27 

Was  but  of  earth,  and  with  her  weightinesse 
Upon  them  fell,  and  did  unwares  oppresse; 
That  for  great  sorrow  of  their  sudden  fate 
Henceforth  all  world's  felicitie  I  hate. 

Much  was  I  troubled  in  my  heavie  spright 

At  sight  of  these  sad  spectacles  forepast, 

That  all  my  senses  were  bereaved  quight, 

And  I  in  minde  remained  sore  agast, 

Distraught  twixt  feare  and  pitie ;  when  at  last 

I  heard  a  voyce,  which  loudly  to  me  called, 

That  with  the  suddein  shrill  I  was  appalled. 

Behold  (said  it)  and  by  ensample  see, 

That  all  is  vanitie  and  griefe  of  minde, 

Ne  other  comfort  in  this  world  can  be, 

But  hope  of  heaven,  and  heart  to  God  inclinde  ; 

For  all  the  rest  must  needs  be  left  behinde. 

With  that  it  bad  me  to  the  other  side 

To  cast  mine  eye,  when  other  sights  I  spide. 


Upon  that  famous  River's  further  shore 

There  stood  a  snowie  Swan  of  heavenly  hiew, 

And  gentle  kinde,  as  ever  fowle  afore : 

A  fairer  one  in  all  the  goodlie  criew 

Of  white  Strimonian  brood  might  no  man  view : 

There  he  most  sweetly  sung  the  prophecie 

Of  his  owne  death  in  dolefull  elegie. 

At  last,  when  all  his  mourning  melodie 

He  ended  had,  that  both  the  shores  resounded, 

Feeling  the  fit  that  him  forewarnd  to  die, 

With  loftie  flight  above  the  earth  he  bounded, 

And  out  of  sight  to  highest  heaven  mounted, 

Where  now  he  is  become  an  heavenly  signe  ; 

There  now  the  ioy  is  his,  here  sorrow  mine. 



Whilest  thus  I  looked,  loe !  adowne  the  lee 
I  saw  an  Harpe  stroong  all  with  silver  twyne, 
And  made  of  golde  and  costlie  yvorie, 
Swimming,  that  whilome  seemed  to  have  been 
The  Harpe,  on  which  Dan  Orpheus  was  scene 
Wylde  beasts  and  forrests  after  him  to  lead, 
But  was  th'  harpe  of  Philisides  now  dead. 
At  length  out  of  the  river  it  was  reard 
And  borne  above  the  cloudes  to  be  divin'd, 
Whilst  all  the  way  most  heavenly  noyse  was 


Of  the  strings,  stirred  with  the  warbling  wind, 
That  wrought  both  ioy  and  sorrow  in  my  mind  : 
So  now  in  heaven  a  signe  it  doth  appeare, 
The  Harpe  well  knowne  beside  the  Northern 



Soone  after  this  I  saw  on  th'  other  side 
A  curious  Coffer  made  of  Heben  wood, 
That  in  it  did  most  precious  treasure  hide, 
Exceeding  all  this  baser  worldes  good  : 
Yet  through  the  overflowing  of  the  flood 
It  almost  drowned  was,  and  clone  to  nought, 
That  sight  thereof  much  griev'd  my  pensive 


At  length,  when  most  in  perill  it  was  brought, 
Two  Angels,  downe  descending  with  swift  flight, 
Out  of  the  swelling  streame  it  lightly  caught, 
And  twixt  their  blessed  armes  it  carried  quight 
Above  the  reach  of  anie  living  sight : 
So  now  it  is  transformed  into  that  starre, 
In  which  all  heavenly  treasures  locked  are. 

MAMMON.  29 


AT  last  he  came  unto  a  gloomy  glade, 
Cover'd  with  boughes  and  shrubs  from  heaven's 


Where  as  he  sitting  found  in  secret  shade 
An  uncouth  salvage  and  uncivile  wight, 
Of  griesley  hew  and  fowle  ill-favour'd  sight : 
His  face  with  smoke  was  tand,  and  eies  were 


His  head  and  beard  with  sout  were  ill  bedight, 
His  cole-blacke  hands  did  seem  to  have  beene 

In  smythe's  fire-spitting  forge,  and  nayles  like 

clawes  appeard. 

His  yron  cote,  all  overgrowne  with  rust, 
Was  underneath  enveloped  with  gold  ; 
Whose  glistring  glosse,  darkned  with  filthy  dust, 
Well  yet  appeared  to  have  beene  of  old 
A  worke  of  rich  entayle  and  curious  mould, 
Woven  with  antickes  and  wyld  ymagery : 
And  in  his  lap  a  masse  of  coyne  he  told, 
And  turned  upside  downe,  to  i'eede  his  eye 
And  covetous  desire  with  his  huge  threasury. 

And  round  about  him  lay  on  every  side 
Great  heapes  of  gold  that  never  could  be  spent ; 
Of  which  some  were  rude  oure,  not  purifide 
Of  Mulciber's  devouring  element  ; 
Some  others  were  new  driven,  and  distent 
Into  great  ingowes  and  to  wedges  square ; 
Some  in  round  plates  withouten  moniment : 
But  most  were  stampt,  and  in  their  metal  bare 
The  antique  shapes  of  Kings  and  Kesars  straung 
and  rare. 



AND  is  there  care  in  heaven  ?  And  is  there  love 
In  heavenly  spirits  to  these  creatures  bace, 
That  may  compassion  of  their  evils  move? 
There  is  :  else  much  more  wretched  were  the  cace 
Of  men  then  beasts.    But  O  !  th'  exceeding  grace 
Of  Highest  God,  that  loves  his  creatures  so, 
And  all  his  workes  with  mercy  doth  embrace, 
That  blessed  angels  he  sends  to  and  fro, 
To  serve  to  wicked  man,  to  serve  his  wicked  foe ! 

How  oft  do  they  their  silver  bowers  leave 
To  come  to  succour  us  that  succour  want! 
How  oft  do  they  with  golden  pineons  cleave 
The  flitting  skyes,  like  flying  pursuivant, 
Against  fowle  feendes  to  ayd  us  militant ! 
They  for  us  fight,  they  watch  and  dewly  ward, 
And  their  bright  squadrons  round  about  us  plant; 
And  all  for  love  and  nothing  for  reward: 
0,  why  should  Hevenly  God  to  men  have  such 
regard  ! 


OP    things    unseene    how    canst    thou    deeme 

aright — 

Then  answered  the  righteous  Artegall — 
Sith  thou  misdeem'st  so  much  of  things  in  sight? 
What  though  the  sea  with  waves  continuall 
Doe  eate  the  earth?  it  is  no  more  at  all : 
Ne  is  the  earth  the  lesse,  or  loseth  ought: 
For  whatsoever  from  one  place  doth  fall 
Is  with  the  tide  unto  another  brought : 
For  there  is  nothing  lost,  that  may  be  found  if 


THE    WAYS    OP    GOD    UNSEARCHABLE.        31 

Likewise  the  earth  is  not  augmented  more 
By  all  that  dying  unto  it  doe  fade; 
For  of  the  earth  they  formed  were  of  yore  : 
However  gay  their  blossome  or  their  blade 
Doe  flourish  now,  they  into  dust  shall  vade. 
What  wrong  then  is  it,  if  that  when  they  die 
They  turne  to  that  whereof  they  first  were  made  ? 
All  in  the  powre  of  their  great  Maker  lie  : 
All  creatures  must  obey  the  voice  of  the  Most  Hie. 

They  live,  they  die,  like  as  He  doth  ordaine, 
Ne  ever  any  asketh  reason  why. 
The  hils  doe  not  the  lowly  dales  disdaine  ; 
The  dales  doe  not  the  lofty  hils  envy. 
He  maketh  kings  to  sit  in  soverainty; 
He  maketh  subiects  to  their  powre  obay  ; 
He  pulleth  downe,   He  setteth  up  on  hy  ; 
He  gives  to  this,  from  that  He  takes  away  : 
For  all  we  have  is  His :  what  He  list  doe,  He  may. 

Whatever  thing  is  done,  by  Him  is  done, 
Ne  any  may  His  mighty  will  withstand ; 
Ne  any  may  his  soveraine  power  shonne, 
Ne  loose  that  He  hath  bound  with  stedfast  band  : 
In  vaine  therefore  doest  thou  now  take  in  hand 
To  call  to  'count,  or  weigh  his  workes  anew, 
Whose  counsel's  depth  thou  canst  not  understand ; 
Sith  of  things  subiect  to  thy  daily  vew 
Thou  doest  not  know  the  causes,  nor  their  courses 

For  take  thy  ballaunce,  if  thou  be  so  wise, 
And  weigh  the  winde  that  under  heaven  doth 

blow : 

Or  weigh  the  light  that  in  the  East  doth  rise ; 
Or  weigh  the  thought  that  from  man's  mind  doth 

flow  : 


But  if  the  weight  of  these  thou  canst  not  show, 
Weigh  but  one  word  which  from  thy  lips  cloth  fall: 
For  how  canst  thou  those  greater  secrets  know, 
That  doest  not  know  the  least  thing  of  them  all  ? 
Ill  can  he  rule  the  great,  that  cannot  reach  the 


MOST  glorious  Lord  of  lyfe !  that,  on  this  day, 
Didst  make  thy  triumph  over  death  and  sin; 
And,  having  harrow'd  hell,  didst  bring  away 
Captivity  thence  captive,  us  to  win : 
This  ioyous  day,  deare  Lord,  with  ioy  begin ; 
And  grant  that  we,  for  whom  thou  diddest  dy, 
Being  with  thy  deare  blood  clene   washt  from 


May  live  for  ever  in  felicity  ! 
And  that  thy  love  we  weighing  worthily 
May  likewise  love  thee  for  the  same  againe 
And  for  thy  sake,  that  all  lyke  deare  didst  buy, 
With  love    may  one  another  entertayne ! 
So  let  us  love,  deare  Love,  lyke  as  we  ought : 
Love  is  the  lesson  which  the  Lord  us  taught. 



FROM  depth  of  doole  wherein  my  soule  dooth  dwell, 
From  heauie  heart  which  harbors  in  my  brest, 
From  troubled  sprite  whych  sildome  taketh  rest, 
From  hope  of  heauen,  from  dreade  of  darkesome 


O  gracious  God,  to  thee  I  crie  and  yell : 
My  God,  my  Lorde,  my  louely  Lorde  alone, 
To  thee  I  call,  to  thee  I  make  my  mone. 
And  thou,  good  God,  vouchsafe  in  gree  to  take 
This  wofull  plaint 
Wherein  I  faint : — 
Oh,  heare  me  then,  for  thy  great  mercies  sake  ! 

Oh,  bende  thine  eares  attentiuely  to  heare, 
Oh,  turne  thine  eies — behold  me  how  I  waile ; 
Oh,  hearken,  Lorde,  giue  eare  for  mine  auaile ; 
Oh,  marke  in  minde  the  burthens  that  I  beare ! 
See  how  I  sinke  in  sorrowes  euerywhere ; 
Beholde  and  see  what  dolors  I  indure ; 
Giue  eare  and  marke  what  plaints  I  put  in  vre : 
Bende  willing  eare,  and  pitie  therewithall 

My  wayling  voyce, 

Which  hath  no  choyce 
But  euermore  upon  thy  name  to  call. 

If  thou,  good  Lorde,  shouldst  take  thy  rod  in 


If  thou  regard  what  sinnes  are  daylye  done, 
If  thou  take  hold  where  wee  our  workes  begone, 



If  thou  decree  in  iudgment  for  to  stande, 
And  be  extreame  to  see  our  'scuses  scand, — 
If  thou  take  note  of  euerythinge  amisse, 
And  wryte  in  rovvles  how  fraile  our  nature  is, 
0  gloryous  God !  O  King !  O  Prince  of  power ! 

What  mortall  wight 

May  then  haue  light 
To  feele  thy  frovvne,  if  thou  haue  list  to  lowre  ? 

But  thou  art  good,  and  hast  of  mercye  store ; 
Thou  not  delyhgtst  to  see  a  sinner  fall ; 
Thou  hearknest  first  before  wee  come  to  call ; 
Thine  eares  are  set  wyde  open  euermore  ; 
Before  wee  knocke,  thou  commest  to  the  doore : 
Thou  art  more  prest  to  heare  a  sinner  crie 
Then  he  is  quicke  to  climbe  to  thee  on  hye. 
Thy  mighty  name  bee  praysed  then  alwaye  : 
Let  fayth  and  feare 
True  witnesse  beare, 
i    Howe  fast  they  stand  which  on  thy  mercie  staye. 

I    I  looke  for  thee,  my  louelye  Lord,  therefore  ; 
For  thee  1  wayte,  for  thee  I  tarrye  styll : 
Mine  eies  doe  long  to  gaze  on  thee  my  fyll ; 
For  thee  I  watche,  for  thee  I  prie  and  pore  : 
My  soule  for  thee  attendeth  euermore; 
My  soule  dooth  thyrst  to  take  of  thee  a  tast; 
My  soule  desires  with  thee  for  to  be  plast  ; 
And  to  thy  worde,  which  can  no  man  deceiue, — 
Myne  only  trust, 
My  loue  and  lust, — 
In  confidence  continuallye  shall  cleaue. 
Before  the  breake  or  dawning  of  the  daye, 
Before  the  lyght  be  seene  in  lofty  skies, 
Before  the  sunne  appeare  in  pleasant  wyse, 
Before  the  watche — before  the  watche,  I  saye, 
Before  the  ward  that  waits  therefore  alway, 


My  soule,  my  sence,  my  secreete  thought,  my 


My  wyll,  my  wish,  my  ioye,  and  my  delight, 
Unto  the  Lord  that  sittes  in  heauen  on  hie, 

With  hastie  wing, 

From  me  dooth  fling, 
And  stryueth  styll  unto  the  Lorde  to  flie. 

0  Israel,  O  housholde  of  the  Lorde, 

O  Abraham's  brats,  O  broode  of  blessed  seede — 

O  chosen  sheepe,  that  loue  the  Lord  indeede — 

O  hungrye  heartes,  feede  styll  upon  his  worde, 

And  put  your  trust  in  him  with  one  accorde ! 

For  he  hath  mercye  euermore  at  hande ; 

His  fountaines  flowe,  his  springs  doe  neuer  stand; 

And  plenteouslye  he  loueth  to  redeeme 

Such  sinners  all 

As  on  him  call, 
And  faithfully  his  mercies  most  esteeme. 

He  wylle  redeeme  our  deadly,  drowping  state  ; 
He  wylle  bring  home  the  sheepe  that  goe  astray  ; 
He  wylle  helpe  them  that  hope  in  him  alvvaye ; 
He  wylle  appease  our  discord  e  and  debate ; 
He  wylle  soon  saue,  though  wee  repent  us  late. 
He  wylle  be  ours,  if  we  continue  his  ; 
He  wylle  bring  bale  to  ioye  and  perfect  blis  ; 
He  wylle  redeeme  the  flocke  of  his  elect 

From  all  that  is, 

Or  was  amisse 
Since  Abraham's  heires  did  first  his  lawes  reiect. 




You  that  haue  spent  the  silent  night 

In  sleepe  and  quiet  rest, 

And  ioy  to  see  the  cheerefull  lyght 

That  riseth  in  the  East : 

Now  cleare  your  voyce,  now  cheere  your  hart, 

Come  helpe  me  now  to  sing  : 

Ech  willing  wight  come  beare  a  part, 

To  prayse  the  heauenly  King. 

And  you  whome  care  in  prison  keepes, 
Or  sickenes  doth  suppresse, 
Or  secret  sorowe  breakes  your  sleepes, 
Or  dolours  doe  distresse : 
Yet  beare  a  part  in  dolefull  wise; 
Yea,  thinke  it  good  accorde, 
And  exceptable  sacrifice, 
Ech  sprite  to  prayse  the  Lorde. 

The  dreadfull  night  with  darkesomnes 
Had  oners pread  the  light, 
And  sluggish  sleepe  with  drowsines 
Plad  ouerprest  our  might: 
A  glasse  wherein  you  may  beholde 
Ech  storme  that  stops  our  breath, 
Our  bed  the  graue,  our  clothes  lyke  molde, 
And  sleepe  like  dreadfull  death. 

Yet  as  this  deadly  night  did  laste 
But  for  a  little  space, 
And  heauenly  daye,  now  night  is  past, 
Doth  shewe  his  pleasaunt  face : 
So  must  we  hope  to  see  God's  face 
At  last  in  heauen  on  hie, 
When  we  haue  changde  this  mortall  place 
For  Immortalitie. 

GOOD    MORROW.  37 

And  of  such  haps  and  heauenly  ioyes, 
As  then  we  hope  to  holde, 
All  earthly  sightes  and  worldly  toyes 
Are  tokens  to  beholde. 
The  daye  is  like  the  daye  of  doome, 
The  sunne  the  Sonne  of  man, 
The  skyes  the  heauens,  the  earth  the  tombe 
Wherein  we  rest  till  then. 

The  Rainbowe  bending  in  the  skie, 
Bedeckte  with  sundrye  hewes, 
Is  like  the  seate  of  God  on  hie, 
And  seemes  to  tell  these  newes : 
That  as  thereby  he  promised 
To  drowne  the  world  no  more, 
So  by  the  bloud  which  Christ  hath  shed 
He  will  our  helth  restore. 

The  mistie  cloudes  that  fall  somtime, 
And  ouercast  the  skyes, 
Are  like  to  troubles  of  our  time, 
Which  doe  but  dymme  our  eies : 
Bu  as  such  dewes  are  dryed  vp  quite, 
When  Phcebus  shewes  his  face, 
So  are  such  fansies  put  to  flighte, 
Where  God  dooth  guide  by  grace. 

The  carion  Crowe,  that  lothsome  beast, 
Which  cries  agaynst  the  rayne, 
Both  for  hir  hewe  and  for  the  rest 
The  Deuill  resembleth  playne : 
And  as  with  gunnes  we  kill  the  crowe, 
For  spoyling  our  releefe, 
The  Deuill  so  must  we  overthrowe 
With  gunshote  of  beleefe. 

The  little  birdes  which  sing  so  swete 
Are  like  the  angells'  voyce, 


Which  render  God  his  meete, 

And  teache  vs  to  reioyce  : 

And  as  they  more  esteeme  that  merth 

Than  dread  the  night's  annoy, 

So  must  we  deeme  our  dayes  on  erth 

But  hell  to  heauenly  ioye. 

Unto  which  ioyes  for  to  attayne 
God  graunt  vs  all  hys  grace, 
And  send  vs,  after  worldlie  payne, 
In  heauen  to  haue  a  place : 
Where  wee  maye  still  enioye  that  light, 
Which  neuer  shall  decaye : 
Lord,  for  thy  mercy  lend  vs  might 
To  see  that  ioyfull  daye. 

Hand  ictus  sapio. 


WHEN  thou  hast  spent  the  lingring  daye 

In  pleasure  and  delight, 

Or  after  toyle  and  wearie  waye 

Dost  seeke  to  rest  at  nighte : 

Unto  thy  paynes  or  pleasures  past 

Adde  thys  one  labor  yet, 

Ere  sleepe  close  vp  thyne  eie  too  fast, 

Doo  not  thy  God  forget. 

But  searche  within  thy  secret  thought, 
What  deeds  did  thee  befall ; 
And  if  thou  find  amisse  in  ought, 
To  God  for  mercie  call. 
Yea,  though  thou  find  nothing  amisse, 
Which  thou  canst  call  to  mind, 
Yet  euermore  remember  this, 
There  is  the  more  behind. 

GOOD    NIGHT.  39 

And  thinke,  how  well  so  euer  it  be 
That  thou  hast  spent  the  daye, 
It  came  of  God,  and  not  of  thee, 
So  to  direct  thy  waye. 
Thus  if  thou  trie  thy  dayly  deedes, 
And  pleasure  in  thys  payne, 
Thy  life  shall  dense  thy  corne  from  weeds, 
And  thine  shal  be  the  gaine. 

But  if  thy  sinfull  sluggishe  eye 
Will  venter  for  to  winke, 
Before  thy  wading  will  maye  trye 
How  far  thy  soule  maye  sinke; 
Beware  and  wake,  for  else  thy  bed, 
Which  soft  and  smoth  is  made, 
May  heape  more  harm  vpon  thy  head, 
Than  blowes  of  enmies'  blade. 

Thus  if  this  paine  procure  thine  ease 
In  bed  as  thou  doost  lye, 
Perhaps  it  shall  not  God  displease 
To  sing  thus  soberly — 
I  see  that  sleepe  is  lent  me  here 
To  ease  my  wearie  bones, 
As  death  at  laste  shall  eeke  appeere, 
To  ease  my  greeuous  grones. 

The  stretching  armes,  the  yauning  breath, 
Which  I  to  bedward  vse, 
Are  patternes  of  the  pangs  of  death, 
When  life  will  me  refuse: 
And  of  my  bed  eche  sundrye  part 
In  shaddowes  doth  resemble 
The  sundry  shapes  of  deth,  whose  dart 
Shal  make  my  flesh  to  tremble. 

My  bed  it  selfe  is  like  the  graue, 
My  sheetes  the  winding  sheete, 


My  cloths  the  mould  which  I  must  haue 

To  couer  me  most  meete : 

The  waking  cock,  that  early  crovves 

To  weare  the  night  awaye, 

Puts  in  my  minde  the  trumpe  that  blowes 

Before  the  latter  daye. 

And  as  I  ryse  vp  lustily, 

When  sluggish  sleep  is  past, 

So  hope  I  to  ryse  ioyfully 

To  Judgment  at  the  last. 

Thus  will  I  wake,  thus  will  I  sleepe, 

Thus  will  I  hope  to  ryse ; 

Thus  will  I  neither  waile  nor  weepe, 

But  sing  in  godly  wyse. 

My  bones  shall  in  this  bed  remaine, 
My  soule  in  God  shall  trust ; 
By  whome  I  hope  to  ryse  againe 
From  death  and  earthlie  dust. 



SWEETE  Saviour!   from  whose  fivefold  bleeding 

That  comfortable  antidote  distilde, 

Which  that  ranck  poyson  hath  expeld  and  kild, 
In  our  old  wretched  father  Adam  found 
In  Paradise,   when  he  desertlesse  crown'd 

Receav'd  it  as  th'  envenomde  Serpent  willde; 

Insteede  of  lustfull  eyes  with  arrowes  fillde 
Of  sinful  loves,  which  from  their  beames  abound, 

Let  those  sweete  blessed  wounds  with  streams 

of  grace 
Aboundantly  sollicite  my  poor  spirite, 

Ravishde  with  love  of  Thee,  that  didst  debase 
Thyselfe  on  earth,  that  I  might  heaven  inherite. 

O  blessed  sweet  wounds  !  fountains  of  electre  ! 

My  wounded  soul's  balm,  and  salvation's  nectre. 


BLESSED  Creatour  !    let  thine  onely  Sonne, 
Sweete  blossome,  stocke,  and  root  of  David's  line, 
The  cleare,  bright  morning-starre,   give  light 

and  shine 

On  my  poore  spirit ;    which  hath  new  begunne 
With  his  Love's  praise,  and  with  vain  loves  hath 


To  my  poor  Muse  let  him  his  eares  incline, 
Thirsting  to  taste  of  that  celestiall  wine 


Whose  purple  streame  hath  our  salvation  wonne. 

O   gracious    Bridegroome !    and   thrice-lovely 

Bride ' 
Which — "Come  and  fill  who  will"— for  ever  crie  ; 

"Water  of  life  to  no  man  is  denyde  ; 
Fill  still,  who  will, — if  any  man  be  drye." 

O  heavenly  voice !  I  thirst,  I  thirst,  and  come 

For  life,  with  other  sinners  to  get  some. 


WHITE  spotlesse  Lambe !  whose  precious  sweete 


The  whole   world's   sinneful   debt  hath    satis 

For  sinners  scorn'd,  whippde,  wounded,  cruci 
fied ; 

Beholde  my  sinfull  soule  by  Sathan  led 
Even  to  the  gates  of  hell,  where  will  be  read 
My  Conscience's  blacke  booke;  unlesse  supplide 
Be   to  those  leaves  past  number  thy  wounds 

Whose  purple  issue,  which  for  sinners  bled, 

Shall  wash  the  register  of  my  foul  sin, 
And  thence  blot  out  the  vile  memoriall : — 

Then  let  thy  blessed  Angell  enter  in 
My  temple  purged,  and  that  historiall 

Of  my  sinnes  numberlesse  in  deepe  seas  cast; 
So  shall  I  be  new  borne  and  sav'd  at  last. 


LYON  of  Judah !  which  dost  judge,  and  fight 
With  endlesse  justice ;    whose  anointed  head 
Was  once  with  wounding  thornes  invironed, 

But  now  with  sacred  crownes,  by  glorious  right ; 

Whose  glorious  hoast  succeedes  in  armour  white; 


Before  whose  face  so  many  millions  fled, 

And  whose  imperiall  name  no  man  could  read; 
Illuminate  my  thoughts  with  the  beames  bright 

Of  that  white,  powrefull,  and  celestiall  Dove : 
Kindle  my  spirit  with  that  sacred  heate 

Which  me  may  ravish  with  an  heavenly  love ; 
Whilst  I  thy  ceaselesse  graces  doe  repeate, 

Downe  pourde  in  full  aboundance  to  mankind,    ! 

Which  comfort  in  my  soul,  poore  wretch!  I 


1    HEAVENLY  Messias !   sweete  anointed  King ! 

Whose  glorie  round  about  the  world  doth  reach, 

Which  everie   beast,  plant,   rocke,   and  river 


And  aerie  birds  like  angels  ever  sing, 
And  everie  gale  of  winde  in  gustes  doth  bring, 

And  everie  man  with  reason  ever  preach : 

Behold,  behold,  that  lamentable  breach 
Which,  my  distressed  conscience  to  sting, 

False,  spitefull  Sathan  in  my  soule  doth  make. 
Oh,  sweete  Messias !  lend  some  gracious  oyle 

To  cure  that  wound,  even  for  thy  mercies  sake ; 
Least,  by  that  breach,  thy  temple  he  dispoyle. 

Helpe,  helpe,-~my  Conscience  thither  him  doth 
leade : 

And  hee  will  come,  if  Thou  bruise  not  his  head. 


DEARE  David's  Sonne  !  whom  thy  forefathers  have 

In  psalmes  and  prophecies  unborne  foretolde, — 

That  hell  in  adamantine  chaines  should  holde, 

And  thence  poore  sinners  both  inlarge  and  save, 

Whom  former  blindness  to  damnation  gave : 


Mee  swallowed  in  the  gulfe  of  sinne  behold  ; 

A  lambe  amongst  wild  wolves,  once  of  thy  fold, 
Whom  Sathan  now  doth  for  his  portion  crave  • 

Deare  Sonne  of  David  !  helpe  :  yet  helpe  with 

Thy  wounds  bleed  fresh  in  my  remembrance  yet,    | 

Which  blessed  wounds  did  for  offenders  bleede:    j 
These  wounds  I  will  not  in  distresse  forget ; 

For  all  cheefe  hope  of  my  salvation   grounds 

In  nectre  of  these  comfortable  wounds. 


O  BENIGNE  Father !    let  my  sutes  ascend 

And  please  thy  gracious  eares,  from  my  soule 

Even  as  those  sweete  perfumes  of  incense  went 
From  our  forefathers'  altars:  who  didst  lend 
Thy  nostrils  to  that  mirrh  which  they  did  send, 

Even  as  I  now  crave  thine  eares  to  be  lent. 

My  soule,  my  soule,  is  wholy,  vvholy  bent 
To  do  thee   condigne  service,  and  amend ; 

To  flic  for  refuge  to  thy  wounded  brest, 
To  sucke  the  balme  of  my  salvation  thence ; 

In  sweete  repose  to  take  eternall  rest, 
As  thy  child  folded  in  thine  armes'  defence  : — 

But  then  my  flesh,  methought  by  Sathan  firde, 

Said  my  proud  sinfull  soule  in  vain  aspirde. 


SOLE  hope  and  blessing  of  olde  Israel's  line  ! 
Which  gave,  by  promise,  to  his  blessed  seede 
A  land  that  should  all  blessings  plentie  breede, 

Rivers  of  pleasant  honnie,  milke,  and  wine ; 

Whose  offspring  numberlesse  Thou  calledst  thine; 


Whome  with  tliine  angels'  manna  thou  didst 

Being  before  from  Pharoe's  bondage  freede, 
When  Moyses  first  thy  statutes  did  resigne : 

Behold,  deare  God !  one,  in  these  daies  of  grace, 
(Since  by  thy  precious  bloud  thou  freede  mankinde 

By  promise,)  which  a  portion  and  a  place 
Amongst  thy  children  hopeth  for  to  finde 

In    gospel's    comfort :    through    thy    bloud's 
deare  prise 

Oh,  let  him  purchase  such  a  Paradise ! 


FORTRESSE  of  hope,  anchour  of  faithful!  zeale, 
Rocke  of  affiance,  bulwarke  of  sure  trust, 
In  whom  all  nations  for  salvation  must 

Put  certaine  confidence  of  their  soules'  weale : 

Those  sacred  misteries,  deare  Lord !  reveale 
Of  that  large  volume,  righteous  and  just. 
From  mee,  though  blinded  with   this  earthly 

Doe  not  those  gracious  misteries  conceale : 
That    I    by  them,  as   from    some   beamesome 

May  find  the  bright  and  true  direction 

To  my  soule  blinded,  marching  to  that  campe 

Of  sacred  soldiours, — whose  protection 

Hee  that  victorious  on  a  white  horse  rideth 
Taketh,  and  evermore  triumphant  guideth. 


O  GLORIOUS  Patrone  of  eternall  blisse  ! 
Victorious  Conqueror  of  Hell  and  Death  ! 
Oh   that    I    had   whole    westerne    windes    of 
breath  ! 


My  voice  and  tongue  should  not  be  so  remisse ; 

My  notes  should  not  be  so  rare  and  demisse : 
But  everie  river,  forrest,  hill,  and  heath, 
Should  eccho  forth  his  praise  ;  and  underneath 

The  world's  foundations  sound  that  it  is  His  ! 
Hee  which  did  place  the  world's  foundations  ; 

Hee  which  did  make  the  sunne,  the  moone,  and 

starres  ; 
Who  with  his  bloud  redeemed  all  nations, 

And,  willing,  none  from  Paradise  debarres : — 
Shall  not  all  instruments  and  voices  sounde 
His  glories,  which  in  all  these  things  abounde? 


THRICE  puissant  generall  of  true  Christian  hoast ! 
Whose  voyce  itselfe  is  dreadfull  thunder-cracke, 
Whose  wrath  doth  neither  fire  nor  lightning 


Whose  stormie  frowne  makes  tremble  everie  coast, 
Chasing  thy  fearefull  foes  from  post  to  post ; 
Whose  hands  force  can  all  the  world's  forces 


Who  turnes  his  foeman's  colours  into  blacke; 
Whose  murthering  thunderboults  for  arrowes  bee, 
Whose  sworde    victorious,   trenchant,  double- 

His  holy  Scripture  is ;  whose  foes  convert 
The   point    to    their    owne    brest,    and  have 


Vaine  arguments,  thy  deare  saints  to  subvert: 
As  thou,  deare  God !  art  Judge  ;  so  give  thy 

In  justice,  to  subvert  ambitious  Rome. 



O  GLORIOUS  conquest,  and  thrice  glorious  speare ! 
But  sev'n  times  thrice  more  glorious  the  Name 
By  which,  thrice  powrefull,  wee  conjure  the 

same ; 

Which,  but  repeated,  doth  that  Dragon  feare, 
That  olde  Levyathan,  whose  jawes,  Lord  !  teare: 
Roote  out  his  tongue  which  doth  Thy  saints 

And  thy  sweete  Gospell  seeke  to  vaile  with 


This  the  chief  conquest  of  all  conquests  were; 
For  which  archangels  and  all  angels  might, 
With  cherubins  and  seraphins,  out  bring 

Victorious  palmes,  arraid  in  sincere  white; 
For  which  all  saints  might  Alleluya  sing. 
Then,  glorious  Captaine,  our  chiefe  God  and  Man, 
Breake  thou  the  jawes  of  olde  Levyathan. 


BREAKE  thou  the  jawes  of  olde  Levyathan, 
Victorious  Conqueror  !  breake  thou  the  jawes, 
Which,  full  of  blasphemie,  maligne  thy  lawes, 

Ready  to  curse,  to  lie,  slaunder,  and  banne ; 

Which  nothing  but  abhomination  can ; 

Whot  like  a  rangying  lyon,  with  his  pawes 
Thy  little  flocke  with  daily  dread  adawes : 

Antichrist's  harrould,  who  with  pride  beganne 
Even  into  thy  triumphant  throane  to  prease, 

And  therefore  his  first  comfort  had  forgonne: 
The  bodie's  ruiner  and  soule's  disease ; 

Bawde  to  that  harlot  of  proude  Babilon, 

Which  mortall  man  to  mortall  sinnes  inviteth, — 
Teare    out  those  fanges   with  which  hee  thy 
flock  biteth. 



FULL  of  celestiall  syrropes,  full  of  svveete 
Are  all  thy  preceptes,  full  of  happines, 
Full  of  all  comforte,  full  of  blessednes, 

Those  salutations  which  our  Saviour  greete  ! 

O  let  us  then  contende,  since  it  is  meete, 
To  keepe  those  lavves  with  upright  holinesse : 
O  let  us  use  and  have  in  readinesse 

Those  sweete  orations,  prostrate  at  his  feete : 
Begging,  imploring,  weeping, smiling, kneeling, 

For  succour,  grace,  and  for  our  sinnes  humbly ; 
Repentance,  mercie  signes,  in  our  heart  feeling, 

Repent,  and  praise  our  God, — for  it  is  comely. 
O  nothing  doth  a  Christian  more  beseeme, 
Than  Him  to  prayse  that  did  his  soule  redeeme  ! 


UNTO  my  spirit  lend  an  angel's  wing, 

By  which  it  might  mount  to  that  place  of  rest, 
Where  Paradise  may  mee  releeve,  opprest; 

Lend  to  my  tongue  an  angel's  voice  to  sing 

Thy  praise,  my  comfort — and  for  ever  bring 
My  notes  thereof  from  the  bright  East  to  West. 
Thy  mercy  lend  unto  my  soule  distrest, 

Thy  grace  unto  my  wits : — then  shall  the  sling 
Of  righteousnesse  that  monster  Sathan  kill, 

Who  with  dispaire  my  deare  salvation  dared  ; 
And,  like  the  Philistine,  stoode  breathing  still 

Proud  threats  against  my  soule,  for  heaven  pre 

At  length,  I  like  an  angell  shall  appeare 
In  spotless  white,  an  angel's  crowne  to  weare. 



As  those  three  kings,  touch'd  with  a  sacred  zeale, 
By  presents  rich  made  royal  offerture, 
Our  new-borne  Saviour's  blessing  to  procure, 

Borne  in  an  oxe-stall  for  our  publique  weale, 

When  in  adoring  Him  they  did  reveale 

His  Godhead,  by  those  gifts  they  did  assure  : 
So  let  Faith,  Hope,  and  Love,  make  overture 

Of  new  salvation,  which  themselves  conceale 
In  this  base  mortall  stable,  sinne's  foul  place, 

Where  of  eternal  joyes  they  may  present 
To  my  salvation,  borne  of  thy  deare  grace, 

Such  rich  propines  as,  from  thy  Gospel  sent, 
By  precious  incense  may  my  spirit  bring, 
The  tearmeless  praises  of  my  God  to  sing. 


A  BLAST  of  winde,  a  momentarie  breath, 
A  watrie  bubble  simbolizde  with  ayre, 
A  sunne-blown  rose,  but  for  a  season  fayre, 

A  ghostly  glaunce,  a  skeleton  of  death, 

A  morning-dew  perling  the  grasse  beneath, 
Whose  moysture  sunne's  appearance  doth  im- 

A  lightning  glimse,  a  muse  of  thought  and  care, 

A  planet's  shot,  a  shade  which  followeth, 
A  voice  which  vanisheth  so  soone  as  heard, 

The  thriftlesse  heire  of  time,  a  rowling  wave, 
A  shewe  no  more  in  action  than  regard, 

A  masse  of  dust,  world's  momentarie  slave, 
Is  Man,  in  state  of  our  olde  Adam  made, 
Soone  borne  to  die,  soone  flourishing  to  fade. 



RIDE  on  in  glorie,  on  the  morning's  wings, 

Thrice  puissant  Conqueror,  in  glorie  ride; 

That  heaven,  as  horse,  couragious  doth  bestride, 
Who,  whether  thou  disposest,  succour  brings. 
Ride  on  the  glorious  cloudes,  high  King  of  kings ! 

Thy  conquering  sworde   girde  to  thy  puissant 

Bright    soldiours    muster    up,    whose    armies 

Raungde  into  quadraines  and  triumphant  rings. 

That  shamelesse  strumpet  of  proud  Babilon, 
Which  thine  apostles  killes,  and  prophets  stoneth, 

With  cuppe  full  of  abhomination, 
Which  poysons  millions,  and  no  man  bemoneth, 

With  her  false,  proud,  and  antichristian  route 

Suppresse,  and  put  to  slaughter  rounde  about. 


RELEEVE  my  soule  with  thy  deare  mercies  balmes; 
Monarch  of  precious  mercie  !    succour  send  : 
I  will  indevour  my  vile  sinnes  to  mend, 

And  to  thee  my  soule  sacrifice  in  psalmes. 

High  God  !  whose  holy  Spirit  outrage  calmes, 
Calme  thou  my  sinfull  spirites,  which  intend 
To  thy  great  praise  their  faculties  to  lend. 

On  my  soul's  knees  I  lift  my  spirit's  palmes, 
With  humble  penitence  to  purchase  grace  : 

These    eyes,   this    mortall    bodie's    skies,    down 

Tears  of  contrition  on  my  blushing  face. 

Fruites  of  repentance  flourish  with  this  shower : 
My  soule  I  feele  is  comforted   and  easde: — 
Then,  Lorde !  with  my  poore  offering  be  well 



WHERE  shall  I,  vexde,  my  sinfull  head  repose? 
If  that  in  errour  and  conceived  vice, 
Which  with  deceitful  blandishments  intice 

My  feeble  nature,  mortified  with  sinne; 

Then  Hope  shall  gates  of  my  salvation  close 
Against  my  soule,  and  my  despaire  beginne : 
If  that  in  open  sight,  then  open  shame 

The  scarlet  of  my  conscience  will  disclose, 
And  sound  the  shameful  trumpet  of  my  fame  : 

Where  shall  I  then  my  vexed  soul  dispose? 
If  not  in  blind  obscuritie  nor  light, 

Then  there,  even  there,  in  penitence  with  those 
Which  weepe  downe  teares  of  comfort,  to  delight 
Their  soule  enlarged  from  eternall  night. 


To  the  glorious  honour  of  the  most  blessed  and 
indivisible  Trinitie. 

SACRED,  deare  Father  of  all  things  created ! 

Whose  joyfull  throne  of  endlesse  triumph  stands 

In  glorious  Heaven ;  whose  name  Earth  animated 

Proclaymeth    through    the    compasse    of    all 

landes ; 

I  lift  these  humble  handes, 
Upheavde  with  courage  of  a  zealous  harte, 

Confirmde  with  fortitude  of  constant  fayth, 
Assur'd  in  grace  of  some  sweete  mercies  parte ; 
Which  treasures  my  deare  hope  in  high  heaven 


Which  comforte  my  soule  hath. 
And  Thou,  deare  only  Sonne  of  God  alone ! 
Thou  precious  immolacion  of  mankinde ! 

4—2  '" 


Who  sits  on  right  hande  of  thy  Father's  throne, 
Who  fearful  Sathan  did  in  fetters  binde; 

Whom  Death  alone  did  finde 
To  be  the  peerlesse  champion  of  his  foyle ; 

Thou,  that  redeemedst  from  infernalf  payne 
Our  great  grandfathers,  and  ourselves  assoyle 
Of  our  foul  sinnes ;  nor  humbled,  didst  disdayne 

For  mankinde  to  be  slayne. 
And  lastly  Thou,  sweete  comfortable  Spirite 

Of  meekenesse,  holinesse,  and  spotlesse  love ! 
By  whose  dear  incense  (not  our  vayne  demerite) 
We  purchase  heritage  in  heaven  above : 

Thou,  that  in  form  of  Dove 
Thy  sanctified  Apostles  didst  salute; 
Spirite    of  Truth,  which    doth   our    comforte 

bring ; 

Without  whose  heavenly  motions  men  are  mute ; 
By  whose  power  in  the  virgine's  womb    did 


Our  Comforter  and  King! 

And  Thou,  deare  sacred  Father !  of  like  power, 

With  thy  most  deare  Sonne,  sacrifice  for  sinne; 

And  Thou,  sweete  Holy  Ghost,  who  didst  downe 

Cloven  tongues  of  fire,  true  glorie  for  to  winne  ; 

All  which  three  Powers  cloase  in 
One  sacred  and  indivisible  God ! 

Vouchsafe,  Oh!  you perpetuall  Highest  Powers, 
Of  equal  vertues,  yet  in  number  odde, 

These  simple  fruites  of  my  repentant  howers ; 

And  with  your  grace's   showers 
The  temper  of  my  feeble  wittes  renewe, 
To  prosper,  cherish'd  with  celestiall  dewe. 




Cum  invocarem. 

HEARE  me,  O  heare  me,  when  I  call, 
O  God,  God  of  my  equity  ! 
Thou  sett'st  me  free  when  I  was  thrall: 
Have  mercy  therefore  still  on  me, 
And  hearken  how  I  pray  to  thee. 

0  men,  whose  fathers  were  but  men, 
Till  when  will  ye  my  honor  high 
Stain  with  your  blasphemies?  till  when 
Such  pleasure  take  in  vanity, 
And  only  haunt  where  lies  do  lye? 

Yet  know  this  to,  that  God  did  take, 
When  he  chose  me,  a  godly  one  : 
Such  one,  I  say,  that  when  I  make 
My  crying  plaintes  to  him  alone, 
He  will  give  good  eare  to  my  moane. 

O,  tremble  then  with  awfull  will ; 
Sinne  from  all  rule  in  you  depose. 
Talk  with  your  harts,  and  yet  be  still ; 
And,  when  your  chamber  you  do  close, 
Your  selves  yet  to  your  selves  disclose. 

The  sacrifices  sacrifie 

Of  just  desires  on  justice  staid : 
Trust  in  that  Lord  that  cannot  ly. 
Indeed,  full  many  folkes  have  said, 
From  whence  shall  come  to  us  such  aid  ? 

SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    &;C> 

But,  Lord,  lift  thou  upon  our  sight 
The  shining  cleerenes  of  thy  face  ; 
Where  I  have  found  more  hart's  delight, 
Then  they  whose  store  in  harvest's  space 
Of  grain  and  wine  fills  stoaring   place. 

So  I  in  peace  and  peacefull  blisse 

Will  lay  mee  downe  and  take  my  rest  : 
For  it  is  thou,  Lord,  thou  it  is, 
By  pow'r  of  whose  own  onely  brest 
I  dwell,  laid  up  in  safest  neast. 


Domine,  ne  in  furore. 

LORD,  lett  not  mee  a  worm  by  thee  be  shent, 
While  thou  art  in  the  heate  of  thy  displeasure  ; 
Nor  let  thy  rage  of  my  due  punishment 
Become  the  measure. 
But  mercy,  Lord,  lett  mercy  thine  descend, 

For  I  am  weake,  and  in  my  weaknes  languish: 
Lord,  help,  for  ev'n  my  bones  their  marrow  spend 

With  cruel  anguish. 
Nay,  ev'n  my  soule  fell  troubles  do  appall. 

Alas  !  how  long,  my  God,  wilt  thou  delay  me? 
Turn  thee,  sweete  Lord,  and  from  this  ougly  fall, 

My  deere  God,  stay  me. 
Mercy,  O  mercy,  Lord,  for  mercy  sake, 

For  death  doth  kill  the  wittnes  of  thy  glory  : 
Can  of  thy  praise  the  tongues  entombed  make 

A  heavenly  story  ? 
Loe,  I  am  tir'd  while  still  I  sigh  and  grone  : 

My  moistned  bed  proofes  of  my  sorrow  showeth  : 
My  bed—  while  I  with  black  night  moorn  alone  — 
With  my  teares  floweth. 



Woe,  like  a  moth,  my  face's  beutie  eates, 
And  age  pul'd  on  with  paines  all  freshnes 

fretteth ; 

The  while  a  swarm  of  foes  with  vexing  feates 
My  life  besetteth. 

Get  hence,  you  evill,  who  in  my  ill  rejoice, 

In  all  whose  workes  vainenesse  is  ever  raigning ; 
For  God  hath  heard  the  weeping  sobbing  voice 
Of  my  complayning. 

The  Lord  my  suite  did  heare,  and  gently  heare : 
They  shall  be  sham'd  and  vext,  that  breed  my 


And  turn  their  backs,  and  straight  on  backs 

Their  shamfull  flying. 


Usque  quo,  Domine? 
How  long,  0  Lord,  shall  I  forgotten  be? 

What,  ever? 

How  long  wilt  thou  thy  hidden  face  from  me 
Dissever  ? 

How  long  shall  I  consult  with  carefull  sprite 

In  anguish? 
How  long  shall  I  with  foes'  triumphant  might 

Thus  languish? 

Behold  me,  Lord  ;  let  to  thy  hearing  creep 

My  crying: 
Nay,  give  me  eyes  and  light,  least  that  I  sleep 

In  dying: 

Least  my  foe  bragg,  that  in  my  ruyne  he 

Prevailed ; 
And  at  my  fall  they  joy  that,  troublous,  me 


56  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    £C. 

Noe !  noe !  I  trust  on  thee,  and  joy  in  thy 

Greate  pitty : 
Still,  therefore,  of  thy  graces  shall  be  my 

Song's  ditty. 


Conserva  me. 

SAVE  me,  Lord ;  for  why  ?  thou  art 
All  the  hope  of  all  my  hart: 

Wittnesse  thou,  my  soule,  with  me, 
That  to  God,  my  God,  I  say, 
Thou,  my  Lord,  thou  art  my  stay, 

Though  my  workes  reach  not  to  thee. 

This  is  all  the  best  I  prove: 
Good  and  godly  men  I  love  ; 

And  forsee  their  wretched  paine, 
Who  to  other  gods  doe  runne : 
Their  blood-offerings  I  do  shunne ; 

Nay,  to  name  their  names  disdaine. 

God  my  only  portion  is, 

And  of  my  childes  part  the  bliss : 

He  then  shall  maintaine  my  lott. 
Say  then,  is  not  my  lott  found 
In  a  goodly  pleasant  ground? 

Have  not  I  faire  partage  gott? 

Ever,  Lord,  I  will  blesse  thee, 
Who  dost  ever  councell  me: 

Ev'n  when  Night  with  his  black  wing, 
Sleepy  Darknes,  doth  orecast, 
In  my  inward  raines  I  tast 

Of  my  faultes  and  chastening. 

My  eyes  still  my  God  reguard, 
And  he  my  right  hand  doth  guard ; 

PSALM    XVI.  57 

So  can  I  not  be  opprest, 
So  my  hart  is  fully  gladd, 
So  in  joy  my  glory  cladd: 

Yea,  my  flesh  in  hope  shall  rest. 

For  I  know  the  deadly  grave 

On  my  soule  noe  pow'r  shall  have : 

For  I  know  thou  wilt  defend 
Even  the  body  of  thine  own 
Deare  beloved  holy  one 

From  a  fowle  corrupting  end. 

Thou  life's  path  wilt  make  me  knowe, 
In  whose  view  doth  plenty  growe 

.All  delights  that  soules  can  crave; 
And  whose  bodies  placed  stand 
On  thy  blessed-making  hand, 

They  all  joies  like-endless  have. 

Cceli  .enarrant. 

THE  heav'nly  frame  setts  foorth  the  fame 

Of  him  that  only  •  thunders  ; 
The  firmament,  so  strangly  bent, 

Showes  his  hand-working  wonders. 

Day  unto  day  doth  it  display, 
Their  course  doth  it  acknowledg: 

And  night  to  night  succeeding  right 
In  darknes  teach  cleare  knowledg. 

There  is  no  speach,  nor  language,  which 

Is  soe  of  skill  bereaved, 
But  of  the  skies  the  teaching  cries 

They  have  heard  and  conceaved. 

There  be  no  eyne,  but  read  the  line 
From  soe  faire  booke  proceeding; 

58  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,  &C. 

Their  wordes  be  sett  in  letters  greate 

For  ev'ry  bodie's  reading. 
Is  not  he  blind,  that  doth  not  find 

The  tabernacle  builded 
There  by  his  grace,  for  sunne's  faire  face 

In  beames  of  beuty  gilded  ? 
Who  foorth  doth  come,  like  a  bridegroome 

From  out  his  vailing  places : 
As  gladd  is  hee  as  giantes  be 
To  runne  their  mighty  races. 
His  race  is  ev'n  from  endes  of  heav'n ; 

About  that  vault  he  goeth : 
There  be  no  realmes  hid  from  his  beames; 

His  heate  to  all  he  throvveth. 
O  law  of  his,  how  perfect  'tis ! 

The  very  soule  amending: 
God's  wittnes  sure  for  ay  doth  dure, 

To  simplest  wisdome  lending. 
God's  doomes  be  right,  and  cheere  the  sprite 

All  his  commandments  being 
So  purely  wise,  they  give  the  eies 
Both  light  and  force  of  seeing. 
Of  him  the  feare  doth  cleannes  beare, 

And  so  endures  for  ever: 
His  judgments  be  self  verity, 
They  are  unrighteous  never. 
Then  what  man  would  so  soone  seeke  gold, 

Or  glittring  golden  money? 
By  them  is  past,  in  sweetest  tast, 

Honny  or  combe  of  honny. 
By  them  is  made  thy  servantes  trade, 

Most  circumspectly  guarded: 
And  who  doth  frame  to  keepe  the  same 
Shall  fully  be  rewarded. 

PSALM  xi:£.  59 

Who  is  the  man  that  ever  can 

His  faultes  know  and  acknowledg? 

O  Lord,  dense  me  from  faults  that  be 
Most  secret  from  all  knovvledg. 

Thy  servant  keepe,  lest  in  him  creepe 

Presumptuous  sinnes'  offences : 
Let  them  not  have  me  for  their  slave, 

Nor  raigne  upon  my  sences. 

Soe  shall  my  sprite  be  still  upright 

In  thought  and  conversation  : 
Soe  shall  I  bide  well  purifide 

From  much  abomination. 

Soe  lett  wordes  sprong  from  my  weake  tongue, 

And  my  harte's  meditation, 
My  saving  might,  Lord,  in  thy  sight 

Receave  good  acceptation. 


Dominus  regit  me. 

THE  Lord,  the  Lord  my  shepheard  is, 
And  so  can  never  I 

Tast  missery. 

He  rests  me  in  greene  pastures  his: 
By  waters  still  and  sweete 
He  guides  my  feete. 

Hee  me  revives ;  leades  me  the  way, 
Which  righteousnesse  doth  take, 

For  his  name  sake. 

Yea,  though  I  should  through  valleys  stray 
Of  deathe's  dark  shade,  I  will 

Noe  whitt  feare  ill. 

For  thou,  deere  Lord,  thou  me  besett'st ; 
Thy  rodd  and  thy  staff  be 
To  comfort  me : 

60  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,  £c. 

Before  me  thou  a  table  sett'st, 
Even  when  foes'  envious  eye 

Doth  it  espy. 

Thou  oil'st  my  head,  thou  fill'st  my  cupp  ; 
Nay  more,  thou  encllesse  good, 

Shalt  give  me  food. 
To  thee,  I  say,  ascended  up, 
Where  thou,  the  Lord  of  all, 
Dost  hold  thy  hall. 


Omnes  gentes,  plaudite. 

ALL  people,  to  Jehovah  bring 

A  glad  applause  of  clapping  hands : 
To  God  a  song  of  triumph  sing, 

Who  high  and  highlie  feared  stands, 
Of  all  the  earth  sole-ruling  king: 
From  whose  allmightie  grace  it  growes 

That  nations  by  our  power  opprest, 
On  foote  on  humbled  countries  goes, 

Who  Jacob's  honor  loved  best, 
An  heritage  for  us  hath  chose. 
There  past  hee  by :  hark,  how  did  ring 

Harmonious  aire  with  trumpetts'  sound: 
High  praise  our  God ;  praise,  praise  our  King, 

Kim?s  of  the  world,  your  judgments  sound, 
With  skilfull  tune  his  praises  sing. 
On  sacred  throne,  not  knowing  end, 

For  God  the  King  of  kingdom es  raignes 
The  folk  of  Abraham's  God  to  frend: 

Hee,  greatest  prince,  greate  princes  gaines  ; 
Princes,  the  shields  that  earth  defend. 

PSALM    LXII.  61 


Nonne  Deo. 
YET  shall  my  soule  in  silence  still 

On  God,  my  help,  attentive  stay : 
Yet  he  my  fort,  my  health,  my  hill, 

Remove  I  may  not,  move  I  may. 
How  long  then  shall  your  fruitlesse  will 

An  enemy  soe  fair  from  thrall 
With  weake  endevor  strive  to  kill, 

You  rotten  hedge,  you  broken  wall? 

Forsooth,  that  hee  no  more  may  rise 

Advaunced  oft  to  throne  and  crown, 
To  headlong  him  their  thoughtes  devise, 

And  past  reliefe  to  tread  him  down. 
Their  love  is  only  love  of  lies : 

Their  wordes  and  deedes  dissenting  soe, 
When  from  their  lippes  most  blessing  flyes, 

Then  deepest  curse  in  hart  doth  grow. 

Yet  shall  my  soule  in  silence  still 

On  God,  my  hope,  attentive  stay: 
Yet  hee  my  fort,  my  health,  my  hill, 

Remove  I  may  not,  move  I  may. 
My  God  doth  me  with  glory  fill, 

Not  only  shield  me  safe  from  harme: 
To  shun  distresse,  to  conquer  ill, 

To  him  I  clime,  in  him  I  arme. 

O  then  on  God,  our  certaine  stay, 

All  people  in  all  times  rely: 
Your  hartes  before  him  naked  lay ; 

To  Adam's  sonnes  tis  vain  to  fly. 
Soe  vain,   soe  false,   soe  fraile  are  they, 

Ev'n  he  that  seemeth  most  of  might, 
With  lightnesse  self  if  him  you  weigh, 

Then  lightnesse  self  will  weigh  more  light. 

62  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    &C. 

In  fraud  and  force  noe  trust  repose : 

Such  idle  hopes  from  thought  expell, 
And  take  good  heed,  when  riches  grovves, 

Let  not  your  hart  on  riches  dwell. 
All  powre  is  God's,  his  own  word  showes, 

Once  said  by  him,  twice  heard  by  mee : 
Yet  from  thee,  Lord,  all  mercy  flowes, 

And  each  man's  work  is  paid  by   thee. 

Deus  judicium, 

TEACH  the  king's  sonne,  who  king  hym  self  shall 

Thy  judgmentes,  Lord,  thy  justice  make  hym 

learn  ; 

To  rule  thy  realme  as  justice  shall  decree, 
And  poore  men's  right  in  judgment  to  discern. 
Then  fearelesse  peace 
With  rich  encrease 
The  mountaynes  proud  shall  fill : 
And  justice  shall 
Make  plenty  fall 
On  ev'ry  humble  hill. 

Make  him  the  weake  support,  th'  opprest  relieve, 

Supply  the  poore,  the  quarrell-pickers  quaile  : 
So  ageless  ages  shall  thee  reverence  give, 
Till  eyes  of  heav'n,  the  sun  and  moone,  shall 

And  thou  againe 
Shalt  blessings  rayne, 
Which  down  shall  mildly  flow, 
As  showres  thrown 
On  meades  new  mown 
Wherby  they  freshly  grow. 

PSALM    LXXII.  63 

During  his  rule  the  just  shall  ay  be  greene, 

And  peacefull  plenty  joine  with  plenteous  peace; 
While  of  sad  night  the  many-formed  queene 
Decreas'd  shall  grow,  and   grown,   again  de 

From  sea  to  sea 
He  shall  survey 
All  kingdoms  as  his  own  ; 
And  from  the  trace 
Of  Perah's  race, 
As  far  as  land  is  known. 

The  desert-dwellers  at  his  beck  shall  bend, 

His  foes  them  suppliant  at  his  feete  shall  fling: 
The  kinges  of  Tharsis  homage  guifts  shall  send ; 
So  Seba,  Saba,  ev'ry  island  king. 
Nay  all,  ev'n  all 
Shall  prostrate  fall, 
That  crownes  and  scepters  weare; 
And  all  that  stand 
At  their  command, 
That  crownes  arid  scepters  beare. 

For  he  shall  heare  the  poore  when  they  complaine, 
And  lend  them  help,  who  helplesse  are  opprest : 
His  mercy  shall  the  needy  sort  sustaine; 
His  force  shall  free  their  lives  that  live  distrest. 
From  hidden  sleight, 
From  open  might, 
Hee  shall  their  soules  redeeme : 
His  tender  eyes 
Shall  highly  prise, 
And  deare  their  bloud  esteem  e. 

So  shall  he  long,  so  shall  he  happy  live; 
Health  shall  abound,  and  wealth  shall  never 
want : 

64  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    &C. 

They  gold  to  hym,  Arabia  gold  shall  give, 
Which  scantnes  deare,  and  dearenes   maketh 

They  still  shall  pray 
That  still  he  may 
So  live,  and  flourish  so: 
Without  his  praise 
No  nights,  no  daies, 
Shall  pasport  have  to  go. 
Looke  how  the  woods,  where  enterlaced  trees 
Spread  frendly  armes  each  other  to  embrace, 
Joyne  at  the  head,  though  distant  at  the  knees, 
Waving  with  wind,  and  lording  on  the  place: 
So  woods  of  corne 
By  mountaynes  borne 
Shall  on  their  shoulders  wave: 
And  men  shall  passe 
The  numerous  grasse; 
Such  store  each  town  shall  have. 
Looke  how  the  sunne,  so  shall  his  name  remayne ; 

As  that  in  light,  so  this  in  glory  one: 
All  glories  this,  as  that  all  lights,  shall  stayne  : 
Nor  that  shah1  faile,  nor  this  be  overthrowne. 
The  dwellers  all 
Of  earthly  ball 

In  hym  shall  hold  them  blest: 
As  one  that  is 
Of  perfect  blisse 
A  patterne  to  the  rest. 
O  God  who  art,  from  whom  all  beings  be ; 

Eternall  Lord,  whom  Jacob's  stock  adore, 
And  wondrous  works  are  done  by  only  thee, 
Blessed  be  thou,  most  blessed  evermore. 
And  lett  thy  name, 
Thy  glorious  fame, 

PSALM    LXXII.  65 

No  end  of  blessing  know: 

Lett  all  this  round 

Thy  honor  sound : 
So,  Lord,  O  be  it  so ! 


Voce    mea  ad  Dominum. 
To  thee  my  crying  call, 

To  thee  my  calling  cry, 
I  did,  O  God,  addresse,  " 

And  thou  didst  me  attend : 
To  nightly  anguish  thrall, 
From  thee  I  sought  redresse  ; 

To  thee  unceassantly 

Did  praying  handes  extend. 
All  comfort  fled  my  soule  ; 

Yea,  God  to  mind  I  call'd: 
Yet  calling  God  to  mynde 

My  thoughts  could  not  appease: 
Nought  els  but  bitter  dole 
Could  I  in  thincking  finde  : 

My  sprite  with  paine  appal'd 

Could  entertaine  no  ease. 
Whole  troupes  of  busy  cares, 

Of  cares  that  from  thee  came, 
Tooke  up  their  restlesse  rest 

In  sleepie  sleeplesse  eies : 
Soe  lay  I  all  opprest, 
My  hart  in  office  lame; 

My  tongue  as  lamely  fares; 

No  part  his  part  supplies. 
At  length,  with  turned  thought, 

Anew  I  fell  to  thinck 
Upon  the  auncient  tymes, 

Upon  the  yeares  of  old : 


66  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    &C. 

Yea,  to  my  mynd  was  brought, 
And  in  my  hart  did  sinck, 

What  in  my  former  rimes 

My  self  of  thee  had  told. 

Loe,   then  to  search  the  truth 

I  sent  my  thoughts  abroade  : 
Meane  while  my  silent  hart 

Distracted  thus  did  plaine : 
Will  God  no  more  take  ruth  ? 
No  further  love  impart? 

No  longer  be  my  God? 

Unmoved  still  remayne? 

Are  all  the  conduites   dry 
Of  his  erst  flowing  grace  ? 

Could  rusty  teeth  of  tyme 
To  nought  his  promise  turne  ? 

Can  mercy  no  more  clyme 

And  come  before  his  face  ? 
Must  all  compassion  dy  ? 
Must  nought  but  anger  burne  .' 

Then  lo,  my  wrack  I  see— 

Say  I,  and   do  I  know 
That  change  lies  in  his  hand 

Who  changelesse  sitts  aloft? 
Can  I  ought  understand, 
And  yet  unmindfull  be, 

What  wonders  from  hym   flow? 

What  workes  his  will  hath  wrought? 

Nay,  still  thy  acts  I  minde; 

Still  of  thy  deedes  I  muse ; 
Still  see  thy  glorie's  light 

Within  thy  temple  shine. 
What  God  can  any  find 
(For  tearme  them  so  they  use) 


Whose  majesty,  whose  might, 

May  strive,  O  God,  with  thine? 
Thou  only  wonders  dost; 

The  wonders  by  thee  done 
All  earth  do  wonder  make : 

As  when  thy  hand  of  old 
From  servitude  unjust 
Both  Jacob's  sonnes  did  take, 

And  sonnes  of  Jacob's  sonne 

Whom  Jacob's  sonnes  had  sold. 
The  waves  thee  saw ;  saw  thee, 

And  fearefull  fledd  the  field : 
The  deepe,  with  panting  brest, 

Engulphed  quaking  lay : 
The  cloudes  thy  fingers  prest 
Did  rushing  rivers  yield; 

Thy  shaftes  did  flaming  flee 

Through  fiery  airy  way. 
Thy  voice's  thundring  crash 

From  one  to  other  pole, 
Twixt  roofe  of  starry  sphere   • 

And  earth's  then  trembling  flore, 
While  light  of  lightning's  flash 
Did  pitchy  cloudes  encleare, 

Did  round  with  terror  role, 

And  rattling  horror  rore. 

Meane  while  through  duskie  deepe 

On  sea's  discovered  bed, 
Where  none  thy  trace  could  view, 

A  path  by  thee  was  wrought: 
A  path  whereon  thy  crew, 
As  shepherds  use  their  sheepe, 

Moses  and  Aron  ledd, 

And  to  glad  pastures  brought. 


SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    &C. 



Benedixisti,  Domine. 
MIGHTY   Lord,  from  this  thy  land 

Never  was  thy  love  estrang'd : 
Jacob's  servitude  thy  hand 

Hath,   we  know,  to  freedome  chang'd. 
All  thy  people's  wicked  parts 

Have  byn  banisht  from  thy  sight: 
Thou  on  them  hast   cured  quite 
All  the  woundes  of  synnfull  dartes; 
Still  thy   choller  quenching  soe, 
Heate  to  flame  did  never  grow. 
Now  then,  God,  as  heretofore, 

God,  the  God  that  dost  us  save, 
Change  our  state;   in  us  no  more 

Lett  thine  anger  object  have. 
Wilt  thou  thus  for  ever  grieve? 
Wilt  thou  of  thy  wrathfull  rage 
Draw  the  threed  from  age  to  age  ? 
Never  us  againe  relieve  ? 

Lord,  yet  once  our  hartes  to  joy 
Show  thy  grace,  thy  help  employ. 
What  speake  I  ?     O  lett  me  heare 

What  he  speakes  :  for  speake  hee  will 
Peace  to  whome  he   love  doth  beare, 

Lest  they  fall  to  folly  still. 
Ever  nigh  to  such  as  stand 
In  his  feare,  his  favour  is: 
How  can  then  his  glory  misse 
Shortly  to  enlight  our  land? 

Mercy  now  and  truth  shall  meete : 
Peace  with  kisse  shall  justice  greete. 
Truth  shall  spring  in  ev'ry  place, 
As  the  hearb,  the  earthe's  attire: 

PSALM    LXXXV.  69 

Justice's  long  absent  face 

Heav'n  shall  show,  and  earth  admire. 

Then  Jehova  on  us  will 

Good  on  good  in  plenty  throw: 
Then  shall  we  in  gladdnes  mow, 

Wheras  now  in  grief  we  till : 
Then  before  him  in  his  way 
All  goe  right;  not  one  shall  stray. 


Qui  habitat. 
To  him  the   Highest  keepes 

In  closet  of  his  care; 
Who  in  th'  Allmightie's  shadow  sleepes, 

For  one  affirme  I  dare: 
Jehova  is  my  fort, 

My  place  of  safe  repaire; 
My  God,  in  whom  of  my  support 

All  hopes  reposed  are. 

From  snare  the  fowler  laies, 

He  shall  thee  sure  unty: 
The  noisome  blast  that  plaguing  straies 

Untoucht  shall  passe  thee  by. 
Soft  hiv'd  with  wing  and  plume 

Thou  in  his  shrowd  shalt  ly, 
And  on  his  truth  noe  lesse  presume, 

Then  most  in  shield  affy. 

Not  mov'd  with  frightfull  night, 

Nor  arrow  shott  by  day: 
Though  plague,  I  say,  in  darknesse  fight, 

And  wast  at  noontide  slay. 
Nay,  allbe  thousands  here, 

Ten  thousands  there  decay; 
That  ruine  to  approach  thee  nere 

Shall  finde  no  force  nor  way. 

70  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    &C. 

But  thou  shalt  live  to  see, 

And  seeing  to  relate, 
What  recompences  shared  be 

To  ev'ry  godlesse  mate. 
When  once  thou  mak'st  the  Lord 

Protector  of  thy  state, 
And  with  the   Highest  canst  accord 

To  dwell  within  his  gate: 

Then  ill,  nay,  cause  of  ill, 

Shall  farr  excluded  goe : 
Nought  thee  to  hurt,  much  lesse  to  kill, 

Shall  nere  thy  lodging  grow. 
For  angells  shall  attend 

By  him  commanded  soe, 
And  thee  in  all  such  waies  defend 

As  his  directions  show. 
To  heare  thee  with  regard 

Their  hands  shall  both  be  spred; 
Thy  foote  shall  never  dash  too  hard 

Against  the  stone  misled. 
Soe  thou  on  lions  goe, 

Soe  on  the  aspick's  head; 
On  lionet  shall  hurtlesse  soe 

And  on  the  dragon  tread. 
Loe,  me,  saith  God,  he  loves, 

I  therefore  will  him  free : 
My  name  with  knowledge  he  approves, 

That  shall  his  honor  be. 
He  asks  when  paines  are  rife, 

And  streight  receiv'd  doth  see 
Help,  glory,  and  his  fill   of  life, 

With  endlesse  health  from  me. 




Dominus  regnavit. 

CLOTH'D  with  state,  and  girt  with  might, 

Monarck-like  Jehova  raignes: 
He  who  earthe's  foundation  pight, 

Pight  at  first,  and  yet  sustaines : 

He  whose  stable  throne  clisdaines 
Motion's  shock,  and  ages'  flight: 

He  who  endless  one  remaines, 
One  the  same  in  changelesse  plight. 

Rivers,  yea,  though  rivers  rore, 

Roring  though  sea-billows  rise ; 
Vex  the  deepe,  and  breake  the  shore, 

Stronger  art  thou,  Lord  of  skies. 

Firme  and  true  thy  promise  lies 
Now  and  still  as  heretofore : 

Holy  worshipp  never  dies 
In  thy  howse  where  we  adore. 


Cantate  Domino. 
SING,  and  let  the  song  be  new, 

Unto  him  that  never  endeth: 
Sing  all  earth,  and  all  in  you: 
Sing  to  God  and  blesse  his  name ; 

Of  the  help,  the  health  he  sendeth, 
Day  by  day  new  ditties  frame. 
Make  each  country  know  his  worth  : 

Of  his  actes  the  wondred  story 

Paint  unto  each  people  forth: 
For  Jehova  greate  alone, 

All  the  gods   for  awe  and  glory 
Farre  above  doth  hold   his  throne. 

72  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    &C. 

For  but  idolls  what  are  they, 

Whom  besides  mad  earth  adoreth  ? 
He  the  skies  in  frame  did  lay: 
Grace  and  Honor  are  his  guides; 
Majesty  his  temple  storeth  ; 
Might  in  guard  about  him   bides. 
Kindreds  come,  Jehova  give, 
O   give  Jehova  all  together 
Force  and  fame,   whereso  you   live: 
Give  his  name  the  glory  fitt; 

Take  your  offrings ;  get  you  thither 
Where  he  doth  enshrined  sitt. 

Goe,  adore  him  in  the  place 

Where  his  pompe  is  most  displaied  : 

Earth,   O  goe  with  quaking  pace; 

Goe,  proclaime  Jehova  king  : 

Staylesse  world  shall  now  be  staied  ; 

Righteous  doome  his  rule  shall  bring. 

Starry  roofe,  and  earthy  floore, 

Sea,  and  all  thy  widenesse  yieldeth, 

Now  rejoyce   and  leape  and  rore : 

Leavy  infants  of  the  wood, 

Fieldes  and  all  that  on  you  feedeth, 

Daunce,   O  daunce  at  such  a  good. 

For  Jehova  cometh,  loe ! 

Loe !   to  raigne  Jehova  cometh ; 
Under  whome  you  all  shall  goe : 
He  the  world  shall  rightly  guide ; 

Truly,  as  a  king  becometh, 
For  the  people's  weale  provide. 

PSALM    XCIX.  73 


Dominus  reynavit. 

WHAT  if  nations  rage  and  frett? 
What  if  earth  doe  ruine  threate? 
Loe,  our  state  Jehova  guideth, 
He  that  on  the  cherubs  rideth. 
Greate  Jehova  Sion  holdes, 
High  above  what  earth  enfolds : 
Thence  his  sacred  name  with  terror 
Forceth  truth  from  tongues  of  error. 
Thron'd  he  sitts  a  king  of  might, 
Mighty  soe,  as  bent  to  right ; 
For  how  can  but  be  maintained 
Right  by  him  who  right  ordained  ? 
O  then  come,  Jehova  sing  : 
Sing  our  God,  our  Lord,   our  King; 
At  the  footstoole  sett  before  him 
— He  is  holy — come,  adore  him. 
Moses  erst  and  Aron  soe — 
These  did  high  in  priesthood  goe — 
Samuell  soe  unto  him  crying, 
Got  their  sutes  without  denying. 
But  from  cloudy  piller  then 
God  did  daigne  to  talk  with  men : 
He  enacting,  they  observing, 
From  his  will  there  was  no  swerving. 
Then  our  God,  Jehova,  thou 
Unto  them  thy  eare  didst  bowe : 
Gratious  still,  and  kindly  harted, 
Though  for  sinne  they  somewhile  smarted. 
0  then  come,  Jehova  sing: 
Sing  our  God,  our  Lord,  our  King; 
In  his  Sion  mount  before  him 
— He  is  holy — come,  adore  him. 

I — 

74  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    &C. 


Laudatc,  pueri. 

O  YOU  that  serve  the  Lord, 
To  praise  his  name  accord; 
Jehova  now  and  ever 
Commending,  ending  never, 
Whom  all  this  earth  resoundes 
From  east  to  westerne  boundes. 
He  monarch  raignes  on  high  : 
His   glory  treades  the   sky. 
Like  him  who  can  be  counted, 
That  dwells  soe  highly  mounted  ? 
Yet  stooping  low  beholds 
What  heav'n  and  earth  enfolds. 
From  dust  the  needy  soule, 
The  wretch  from  miry  hole 
He  lifts:  yea,  kings  he  makes  them, 
Yea,  kings  his  people  takes  them  : 
He  gives  the  barren  wife 
A  fruitfull  mother's  life. 


Laudate  Dominum. 
P  RAISE  him  that  aye 
R  emaines  the  same  : 
All  tongues  display 
I  ehova's  fame. 
S  ing  all  that  share 
T  his  earthly  ball ; 
His  mercies  are 
E  xpos'cl  to  all : 
L  ike  as  the  word 
O  nee  he  doth  give, 
R  old  in  record, 
D  oth  tyme  outlyve. 

PSALM    CXXV.  75 


Qui  confidunt. 

As  Sion  standeth,  very  firmly  stedfast, 
Never  once  shaking ;  soe  on  high  Jehova 
Who  his  hope  buildeth,  very  firmly  stedfast 

Ever  abideth. 

As  Salem  braveth  with  her  hilly  bullwarkes 
Roundly  enforted;  soe  the  greate  Jehova 
Closeth  his  servantes,  as  a  hilly  bullwark 

Ever  abiding. 

Though  tirantes'  hard  yoke  with  a  heavy  pressure 
Wring  the  just  shoulders,  but  a  while  it  holdeth, 
Lest  the  best  minded  by  too  hard  abusing 

Bend  to  abuses. 

As  the  well-workers,  soe  the  right  beleevers, 
Lord,  favour  further:  but  a  vaine  deceiver, 
Whose  wryed  footing  not  aright  directed 

Wandreth  in  error; 

Lord,  hym  abjected  set  among  the  number, 
Whose  doings  lawlesse  study  bent  to  mischiefe 
Mischief  expecteth ;  but  upon  thy  chosen 

Peace  be  for  ever. 


Nisi  Dominus. 

The  house  Jehova  builds  not 
We  vainly  strive  to  build  it; 
The  towne  Jehova  guards  not 
We  vainly  watch  to   guard  it. 

No  use  of  early  rising; 
As  uselesse  is  thy  watching: 
Not  aught  at  all  it  helpes  thee 
To  eate  thy  bread  with  anguish. 

76  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    &C. 

As  unto  weary  sences 

A  sleepie  rest  unasked; 

So  bounty  cometh  uncaus'd 

From  him  to  his  beloved. 

Noe,  not  thy   children  hast  thou 

By  choise,  by  chaunce,   by  nature ; 

They  are,  they  are  Jehova's, 

Rewardes  from  him  rewarding. 

The  multitude  of  infantes, 

A   good  man  holdes,  resembleth 

The  multitude   of  arrowes, 

A  mighty  archer  holdeth. 

Hys  happines   triumpheth, 

Who  beares  a  quiver  of  them  : 

Noe  countenance  of  haters 

Shall  unto  him  be  dreadfull. 


Scepe  expugnaverunt . 
OFTE,  and  ever  from  my  youth, 

Soe  now  Israel  may  say : 
Israel  may  say  for  truth, 

Ofte  and  ever  my  decay 
From  my  youth  their  force  hath  sought, 
Yet  effect  it  never  wrought. 
Unto  them  my  back  did  yeeld 

Place  and  paine :  0  height  of  woe ! 
Where,  as  in  a  plowed  field, 

Long  and  deepe  did  furrowes  goe. 
But,  O  just  Jehova,  thou 
Hast  their  plow-ropes  cutt  in  two  1 
Tell  me,  you  that  Sion  hate, 

What  you  think  shall  be  your  end? 
Terror  shall  your  mindes  amate, 

Blush  and  shame  your  faces  shend : 

PSALM    CXXIX.  77 

Marke  the  wheate  on  bowses'  topp ; 
Such  your  harvest,  such  your  cropp. 

Wither  shall  you  where  you  stand; 

Gather'd?  noe:  but  wanting  sapp, 
Filling  neither  reaper's  band, 

Nor  the  binder's  inbowd  lapp. 
Nay,  who  you  shall  reape,  or  bind, 
Common  kindnesse  shall  not  find. 
Such  as  travail  by  the  way, 

Where  as  they  their  paines  imploy, 
Shall  not  once  saluting  say, 

"  God  speed  friendes,  God  give  you  joy ; 
He  in  whome  all  blessings  raignes 
Blesse  your  selves,  and  blesse  your  paines." 

Domine,  non  est. 

A  LOFTY  hart,  a  lifted  eye, 
Lord,  thou  dost  know  I  never  bare: 

Lesse  have  I   borne  in  things  to  hygh 
A  medling  mind  or  clyming  care. 
Looke  how  the  wained  babe  doth  fare, 

0  did  I  not  ?  yes,  soe  did  I : 
None  more  for  quiet  might  compare 

Ev'n  with  the  babe  4hat  wain'd  doth  lye. 
Heare  then  and  learne,   O  Jacob's  race, 
Such  endlesse  trust  on  God  to  place. 


Ecce  quam  bonum. 
How  good,  and  how  beseeming  well 

It  is  that  we, 

Who  brethren  be, 
As  brethren  should  in  concord  dwell! 

78  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    &C. 

Like  that  deere  oile  that  Aron  beares, 

Which  fleeting  down 

To  foote  from  crown 

Embalms  his  beard  and  robe  he  weares. 
Or  like  the  teares  the  morne  doth  shedd, 

Which  ly  on  ground 

Empearled  round, 
On  Sion  or  on  Hermon's  head. 
For  join'd  therewith  the  Lord  doth  give 

Such  grace,  such  blisse, 

That  where  it  is 
Men  may  for  ever  blessed  live. 


Ecce  nunc. 

You  that  Jehova's  servants  are, 
Whose  carefull  watch,  whose  watchfull  care 
Within  his  house  are  spent; 
Say  thus  with  one  assent, 
Jehova's  name  be  praised! 
Then  let  your  handes  be  raised 
To  holiest  place, 
Where  holiest  grace 
Doth  ay 

Remaine ; 
And  say 


Jehova's  name  be  praised ! 
Say  last  unto  the  company, 
Who  tarrying  make 
Their  leave  to  take, 
All  blessings  you  accompany, 
From  him  in  plenty  showered, 
Whom  Sion  holds  embowered, 

Who  heav'n  and  earth  of  nought  hath  raised1 



0  PRAISE  the  Lord  where  goodness  dwells, 
For  his  kindnesse  lasteth  ever : 

O  praise  the  God  all  gods  excells, 
For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 

Praise  him  that  is  of  lords  the  Lord, 
For  his  kindnesse  lasteth  ever : 

Who  only  wonders  doth  afford, 
For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 

Whose  skillfull  art  did  vault  the  skies, 
For  his  kindnesse  lasteth  ever : 

Made  earth  above  the  waters  rise, 
For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 

Who  did  the  luminaries  make, 
For  his  kindnesse  lasteth  ever : 

The  sun,  of  day  the  charge  to  take, 
For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 

The  moone  and  starrs  in  night  to  raign, 
For  his  kindnesse  lasteth  ever : 

Who   Egypt's  eldest-born  hath  slayn, 
For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 

And  brought  out  Israel  from  thence, 
For  his  kindnesse  lasteth  ever : 

With  mighty  hand  and  strong  defence, 
For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 

Who  cutt  in  two  the  russhy  sea, 
For  his  kindnesse  lasteth  ever: 

And  made  the  midclest  Jacob's  way, 
For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 

Who  Pharao  and  his  army  droun'd, 
For  his  kindnesse  lasteth   ever : 

80  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,    &C. 

And  led  his  folk  through  desert  ground, 

For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 
Greate  kings  in  battaile  overthrew, 

For  his  kindnesse  lasteth  ever: 
Yea,  mighty  kings,   most  mighty  slew, 

For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 
Both  Sehon  king  of  Amorites, 

For  his  kindnesse  lasteth  ever: 
And  Ogg  the  king  of  Bashanites, 

For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 

For  heritage  his  kingdoms  gave, 

For  his  kindnesse  lasteth   ever : 
His   Israeli  to  hold  and  have, 

For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 
Who  minded  us   dejected  low, 

For  his  kindnesse  lasteth  ever: 
And  did  us  save  from  force  of  foe, 

For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 
Who  fills  with  foode  each  feeding  thing, 

For  his  kindnesse  lasteth  ever: 
Praise  God,  who  is  of  heav'ns  the  king, 

For  his  bounty  endeth  never. 


Super  flumina. 

NIGH  seated  where  the  river  flowes, 
That  watreth  Babell's  thanckfull  plaine, 

Which  then  our  teares  in  pearled  rowes 
Did  help  to  water  with  their  raine: 

The  thought  of  Sion  bred  such  woes, 
That  though  our  harpes  we  did  retaine, 

Yet  uselesse  and  untouched  there 

On  willow es  only  hang'd  they  were. 


Now  while  our  harpes  were  hanged  soe, 
The  men,  whose  captives  then  we  lay, 

Did  on  our  griefs  insulting  goe, 
And,  more  to  grieve  us,  thus  did  say: 

"  You  that  of  musique  make  such  shew, 
Come  sing  us  now  a  Sion  lay." 

0  no!  we  have  nor  voice,  nor  hand, 

For  such  a  song,  in  such  a  land. 

Though  farre  I  lye,   sweete  Sion  hill, 
In  forraine  soile,  exil'd  from   thee, 

Yet  let  my  hand  forgett  his  skill, 
If  ever  thou  forgotten  be  : 

Yea,  lett  my  tongue  fast  glued  still 
Unto  my  roofe  lye  mute  in  me, 

If  thy  neglect  within  me  spring, 

Or  ought  I  do  but  Salem  sing. 

But  thou,   O  Lord,  will  not  forgett 
To  quit  the  paines  of  Edom's  race, 

Who  causelessly,  yet  hottly  sett 
Thy  holy  citty  to  deface, 

Did  thus  the  bloody  victors  whet 

What  time  they  entred  first  the  place: 

"  Downe,  downe  with  it,  at  any  hand, 

Make  all  flatt  plaine,  lett  nothing  stand." 

And  Babilon,  that  didst  us  wast, 
Thy  selfe  shalt  one  daie  wasted  be: 

And  happy  he,  who  what  thou  hast 
Unto  us  done,  shall  do  to  thee; 

Like  bitterness  shall  make  thee  tast, 
Like  wofull  objects  cause  thee  see : 

Yea,  happy  who  thy.  little  ones 

Shall  take,  and  dash  against  the  stones. 


82  SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY,  &C. 


Benedictus  Dominus. 
PRAIS'D  bee  the  Lord  of  might, 

My  rock  in  all  allarms, 
By  whom  my  hands  doe  fight, 

My  fingers  manage  armes: 
My  grace,  my  guard,  my  fort, 

On  whom  my  safety  staies  : 
To  whom  my  hopes  resort, 

By  whom  my  realm  obaies. 

Lord,  what  is  man  that  thou 

Should' st  tender  soe  his  fare  ? 
What  hath  his  child  to  bow 

Thy  thoughts  unto  his  care  ? 
Whose  neerest  kinn  is  nought; 

No  image  of  whose  daies 
More  lively  can  bee  thought, 

Then  shade  that  never  staies. 

Lord,  bend  thy  arched  skies 

With  ease  to  let  thee  down, 
And  make  the  stormes  arise 

From  mountane's  fuming  crown 
Lett  follow  flames  from  sky, 

To  back  their  stoutest  stand: 
Lett  fast  thy  arrowes  fly, 

Dispersing  thickest  band. 

Thy  heav'nly  helpe  extend, 

And  lift  me  from  this  flood  : 
Lett  mee  thy  hand  defend 

From  hand  of  forraine  brood; 
Whose  mouth  no  mouth  at  all, 

But  forge  of  false  entent, 
Wherto  their  hand  doth  fall 

As  aptest  instrument. 

PSALM    CXLIV.  83 

Then  in  new  song  to  thee 

Will  I  exalt  my  voice: 
Then  shall,  0  God,  with  me 

My  ten-string'cl  lute  rejoyce. 
Rejoyce  in  him,  I  say, 

Who  royall  right  preserves, 
And  saves  from  sword's  decay 

His  David  that  him  serves. 

O  Lord,  thy  help  extend, 

And  lift  mee  from  this  flood : 
Lett  me  thy  hand  defend 

From  hand  of  forrain  brood ; 
Whose  mouth  no  mouth  at  all, 

But  forge  of  false  entent, 
Whereto  their  hand  doth  fall 

As  aptest  instrument. 

Soe  then  our  sonnes  shall  grow 

As  plants  of  timely  spring, 
Whom  soone  to  fairest  shew 

Their  happy  growth  doth  bring. 
As  pillers  both  doe  beare 

And  garnish  kingly  hall, 
Our  daughters,  straight  and  faire, 

Each  howse  embellish  shall. 

Our  store  shall  ay  bee  full; 

Yea,  shall  such  fullness  finde, 
Though  all  from  thence  wee  pull. 

Yet  more  shall  rest  behinde: 
The  millions  of  encrease 

Shall  breake  the  wonted  fold; 
Yea,  such  the  sheepy  prease, 

The  streetes  shall  scantly  hold. 

Our  heards  shall  brave  the  best; 
Abroad  no  foes  alarme; 


Sill    PHILIP    SIDNEY,  &C. 

At  home  to  breake  our  rest, 
No  cry  the  voice  of  harme. 

If  blessed  tearme  I  may, 

On  whom  such  blessings  fall; 

Then  blessed,  blessed  they 
Their  God  Jehova  call. 


Laudate  Dominurn. 

INHABITANTS  of  heav'nly  land, 

As  loving  subjectes  praise  your  king : 
You  that  among  them  highest  stand, 
In  highest  notes  Jehova  sing. 
Sing  angells  all,  on  carefull  wing, 

You  that  his  heralds  fly, 
And  you  whom  he  doth  soldiers  bring 
In  field  his  force  to  try. 

0  praise  him,  sunne,  the  sea  of  light; 

O  praise  him,  moone,  the  light  of  sea; 
You  pretie  starrs  in  robe  of  night, 
As  spangles  twinckling,  do  as  they. 
Thou  spheare,  within  whose  bosom  play 

The  rest  that  earth  emball ; 
You  waters  banck'd  with  starry  bay; 
O  praise,  O  praise  him  all! 

All  these,  I  say,  advaunce  that  name, 

That  doth  eternall  being  show  : 
Who  bidding,  into  forme  and  frame, 
Not  being  yet,  they  all  did  grow  : 
All  formed,  framed,  founded  so, 

Till  ages'  uttmost  date, 
They  place  retaine,  they  order  know, 
They  keepe  their  first  estate. 

PSALM    CXLVill.  85 

When  heav'n  hath  prais'd,  praise  earth  anew : 

You  dragons  first,  her  deepest  guests; 
Then  soundlesse  deepes,  and  what  in  you 
Residing  low,  or  moves,  or  rests. 
You  flames  affrighting  mortall  brests; 

You  cloudes  that  stones  do  cast ; 
You  feathery  snowes  from  wynter's  nests, 
You  vapors,  sunnes  appast. 

You  boisterous  windes,  whose  breath  fulfills 

What  in  his  word  his  will  setts  down : 
Ambitious  mountaines,  curteous  hills, 

You  trees  that  hills  and  mountaines  crown  : 
Both  you,  that  proud  of  native  gown 

Stand  fresh  and  tall  to  see, 
And  you  that  have  your  more  renown, 
By  what  you  beare,  then  be. 

You  beasts  in  woodes  untam'd  that  range, 

You  that  with  men  familier  go, 
You  that  your  place  by  creeping  change, 
Or  airy  streames  with  feathers  row. 
You  stately  kings,  you  subjects  low, 

You  lordes  and  judges  all: 
You  others,  whose  distinctions  shew 
How  sex  or  age  may  fall. 

All  these,  I  say,  advaunce  that  name 
More    hygh    then   skies,  more    low   then 

ground : 
And  since,  advaunced  by  the  same, 

You  Jacob's  sonnes  stand  cheefly  bound, 
You  Jacob's  sonnes  be  cheefe  to  sound 

Your  God  Jehova's  praise  : 
So  fitts  them  well  on  whom  is  found 
Such  blisse  he  on  you  laies. 





1st,  The  Desire  of  Knowledge;  2nd,  The  Motion  of  the  Soul; 
3rd,  From  Contempt  of  Death  in  the  righteous  ;  4th,  From 
Fear  of  Death  in  the  wicked  ;  and  5th,  From  the  General 
Desire  of  Immortality' 

HER  onely  end  is  neuer-ending  blisse, 
Which  is  th'  eternall  face  of  God  to  see ; 

Who  last  of  ends,  and  first  of  causes  is  : 
And  to  do  this,  she  must  eternall  bee. 

How  senselesse  then,  and  dead  a  soule  hath  hee, 
Which  thinks  his  soule  doth  with  his  body  dye  ; 

Or  thinks  not  so,  but  so  would  haue  it  bee, 
That  he  might  sinne  with  more  securitie ! 

For  though  these  light  and  vicious  persons  say, 

"  Our  soule  is  but  a  smoke,  or  aiery  blast, 
Which  during  life  doth  in  her  nostrils  play, 

And  when  we  die,  doth  turne  to  wind  at  last :" 
Although  they  say,  "  Come,  let  vs  eat  and  drinke ; 

Our  life  is  but  a  sparke  which  quickly  dyes  :" 
Though  thus  they  say,  they  know  not  what  to 

But  in  their  minds  ten  thousand  doubts  arise. 

Therefore  no  heretikes  desire  to  spread 
Their  light  opinions,  like  these  Epicures ; 

For  so  their  staggering  thoughts  are  comforted, 
And  other  men's  assent  their  doubt  assures. 

THE    IMMORTALITY    OF    THE    SOUL.         87 

Yet  though  these  men   against  their  conscience 


There  are  some  sparkles  in  their  flintie  breasts, 
Which  cannot  be  extinct,  but  still  reuiue  ; 

That,  though  they  would,  they  cannot  quite  be 

But  whoso  makes  a  mirror  of  his  mind, 
And  doth  with  patience  view  himselfe  therein, 

His  soule's  eternity  shall  cleerly  find, 
Though  th'  other  beauties  be  defac't  with  sinne. 

First,  in  man's  minde  we  find  an  appetite 

To  learne  and  know  the  truth  of  euerie  thing, 

Which  is  connaturall  and  borne  with  it, 

And  from  the  Essence  of  the  Soule  doth  spring. 

With  this  desire  shee  hath  a  natiue  might 
To  find  out  euerie  truth,  if  she  had  time  ; 

Th'  innumerable  effectes  to  sort  aright, 

And  by  degrees  from  cause  to  cause  to  clime. 

But  since  our  life  so  fast  away  doth  slide, 
As  doth  a  hungry  eagle  through  the  wind, 

Or  as  a  ship  transported  with  the  tide, 

Which  in  their  passage  leaue  no  print  behind  : 

Of  which  swift  litle  time  so  much  we  spend, 
While  some  few  things  we  through  the  sense 
do  straine, 

That  our  short  race  of  life  is  at  an  end, 
Ere  we  the  principles  of  skill  attaine : 

Or  God  (which  to  vaine  ends  hath  nothing  done) 
In  vaine  this  appetite  and  pow'r  hath  giuen  ; 

Or  else  our  knowledge,  which  is  here  begon, 
Hereafter  must  bee  perfected  in  heauen. 

God  neuer  gave  a  pow'r  to  one  whole  kind, 
But  most  part  of  that  kinde  did  vse  the  same  ; 

88  SIR    JOHN    DAVIES. 

Most  eyes  haue  perfect  sight,  though  some  be 

blind ; 
Most  leggs  can  nymbly  run,  though  some  be  lame. 

But  in  this  life  no  soule  the  truth  can  know 
So  perfectly,  as  it  hath  pow'r  to  doe : 

If  then  perfection  be  not  found  below, 

An  higher  place  must  make  her  mount  thereto. 

Againe,  how  can  shee  but  immortall  bee, 
When  with  the  motions  of  both  will  and  wit 

She  still  aspireth  to  eternitie, 

And  neuer  rests  till  shee  attaine  to  it  ? 

Water  in  conduit-pipes  can  rise  no  higher 

Than  the  well-head  from  whence  it  first  doth 
spring : 

Then  since  to  eternall  God  she  doth  aspire, 
Shee  cannot  be  but  an  eternall  thing. 

All  mouing  things  to  other  things  do  moue 

Of  the  same  kind,  which  shewes  their  nature 


So  earth  fals  downe,  and  fire  doth  mount  aboue, 
Till  both  their  proper  elements  do  touch. 

And  as  the  moysture  which  the  thirstie  earth 
Suckes  from  the  sea  to  fill  her  emptie  veines, 

From  out  her  wombe  at  last  doth  take  a  birth, 
And  runnes  a  nymph  along  the  grassie  plaines : 

Long  doth  shee  stay,  as  loath  to  leaue  the  land, 
From  whose  soft  side  she  first  did  issue  make : 

Shee  tastes  all  places,  turnes  to  euery  hand, 
Her  flowrie  bankes  vn willing  to  forsake  ; 

Yet  Nature  so  her  streames  doth  leade  and  carry, 
As  that  her  course  doth  make  no  finall  stay, 

Till  she  herselfe  vnto  the  ocean  marry, 
Within  whose  watry  bosome  first  she  lay : 

THE    IMMORTALITY    OP    THE    SOUL.         89 

Euen  so  the  soule,  which  in  this  earthly  mold 
The  Spirit  of  God  doth  secretlie  infuse, 

Because  at  first  she  doth  the  earth  behould, 
And  onely  this  materiall  world  she  viewes  ; 

At  first  our  mother-earth  shee  holdeth  dere, 
And    doth    embrace    the    world    and   worldly 
things ; 

Shee  flyes  close  by  the  ground,  and  houers  here, 
And  mounts  not  vp  with  her  celestiall  wings : 

Yet  vnder  heauen  shee  cannot  light  on  ought 
That  with  her  heauenly  nature  doth  agree  ; 

She  cannot  rest,  she  cannot  fixe  her  thought, 
She  cannot  in  this  world  contented  bee. 

For  who  did  etier  yet  in  honor,  wealth, 

Or  pleasure  of  the  sense,  contentment  find  ? 

Who  euer  ceasd  to  wish,  when  he  had  health  ? 
Or  hauing  wisedome,  was  not  vext  in  mind  ? 

Then  as  a  bee,  which  among  weeds  doth  fall, 
Which  seeme  sweet  floures,  with  lustre  fresh   j 
and  gay, 

She  lights  on  that,  and  this,  and  tasteth  all, 
But  pleasd  with  none,  doth  rise  and  sore  away : 

So,  when  the  soule  finds  here  no  true  content, 
And,  like  Noah's  doue,  can  no  sure  footing 

She  doth  returne  from  whence  she  first  was  sent, 
And  flyes  to  him  that  first  her  wings  did  make. 

Wit,  seeking  truth,  from  cause  to  cause  ascends, 
And  neuer  rests,  till  it  the  first  attaine : 

Will,  seeking  good,  finds  many  middle  ends, 
But  neuer  stayes,  till  it  the  last  do  gaine. 

Now  God  the  Truth,  and  first  of  Causes  is ; 
God  is  the  last  good  end,  which  lasteth  still ; 

90  SIR   JOHN    DAVIES. 

Being  Alpha  and  Omega  nam'd  for  this, 
Alpha  to  wit,  Omega  to  the  will. 

Sith  then  her  heauenly  kind  shee  doth  bewray, 
In  that  to  God  she  doth  directly  moue, 

And  on  no  mortall  thing  can  make  her  stay, 
Shee  cannot  be  from  hence,  but  from  aboue. 

And  yet  this  first  true  Cause,  and  last  good  End, 
She  cannot  heere  so  well  and  truly  see : 

For  this  perfection  she  must  yet  attend, 
Till  to  her  Maker  shee  espoused  bee. 

As  a  King's  daughter,  being  in  person  sought 
Of  diuerse  princes,  which  doe  neighbour  neare, 

On  none  of  them  can  fixe  a  constant  thought, 
Though  shee  to  all  doe  lend  a  gentle  eare ; 

Yet  can  she  loue  a  forraine  Emperour, 

Whom  of  great  worth  and  powre  she  heares 
to  be, 

If  she  be  woo'd  but  by  embassadour, 
Or  but  his  letters,  or  his  pictures  see  ; 

For  well    she  knowes   that    when   she   shal   be 

Into  the   kingdome   where   her   Spouse  doth 


Her  eyes  shall  see  what  shee  conceiu'd  in  thought, 
Himselfe,  his  state,  his  glorie,  and  his  traine: 

So  while  the  virgin  Soule  on  earth  doth  stay, 

Shee  woo'd  and  tempted  is  ten  thousand  wayes 
By    these    great    powers,    which    on  the    earth 

beare  sway, 
The  wisdome  of  the  world,  wealth,  pleasure, 

praise : 

With  these  sometime  she  doth  her  time  beguile, 
These  do  by  fits  her  phantasie  possesse  ; 

THE    IMMORTALITY    OF    THE    SOUL.         91 

But  she  distasts  them  all  within  a  while, 
And  in  the  sweetest  finds  a  tediousnesse : 

But  if  vpon  the  world's  Almightie  King 

She  once  doe  fixe  her  humble  louing  thought, 

Who  by  his  picture  drawne  in  euery  thing, 
And  sacred  messages,  her  loue  hath  sought ; 

Of  him  she  thinks  she  cannot  thinke  too  much  ; 

This  hony  tasted,  still  is  euer  sweete  ; 
The  pleasure  of  her  rauisht  thought  is  such, 

As  almost  here  she  with  her  blisse  doth  meete. 

But  when  in  heauen  she  shall  his  Essence  see, 
This  is  her  soueraigne  good  and  perfect  blisse ; 

Her  longings,  wishings,  hopes,  all  finisht  bee, 
Her  ioyes  are  full,  her  motions  rest  in  this : 

There  is  she  crownd  with  garlands  of  content ; 

There  doth  shee  manna  eate  and  nectar  drinke ; 
That  presence  doth  such  high  delights  present, 

As  neuer  tongue  could  speake,  nor  hart  could 

For  this,  the  better  soules  do  oft  despise 
The  bodie's  death,  and  doe  it  oft  desire ; 

For  when  on  ground  the  burthened  ballance  lyes, 
The  emptie  part  is  lifted  vp  the  higher. 

But  if  the  bodie's  death  the  Soule  should  kill, 
Then  death  must  needs  against  her  nature  bee  ; 

And  were  it  so,  all  soules  would  flie  it  still, 
For  Nature  hates  and  shunnes  her  contrarie : 

For  all  things  else,  which  Nature  makes  to  bee, 
Their  being  to  preserue  are  chiefly  taught  ; 

And  though  some  things  desire  a  chaunge  to  see, 
Yet  neuer  thing  did  long  to  turne  to  nought. 

If  then  by  death  the  Soule  were  quenched  quite, 
She  could  not  thus  against  her  nature  runne, 

92  SIR    JOHN    DAVIES. 

Since  euery  senselesse  thing,  by  Nature's  light, 
Doth  preseruation  seeke,  destruction  shunne. 

Nor  could  the  world's  best  spirits  so  much  erre, 
If  death  tooke  all,  that  they  should  all  agree 

Before  this  life  their  honor  to  preferre  ; 

For  what  is  praise  to  things  that  nothing  bee? 

Againe,  if  by  the  bodie's  prop  shee  stand  ; 

If  on  the  bodie's  life  her  life  depend, 
As  Meleager's  on  the  fatall  brand, 

The  bodie's  good  she  onely  would  intend : 

We  should  not  find  her  halfe  so  braue  and  bold, 
To  leade  it  to  the  warres,  and  to  the  seas, 

To  make  it  suffer  watchings,  hunger,  cold, 

When  it  might  feed  with  plentie,  rest  with  ease. 

Doubtlesse  all  soules  haue  a  suruiuing  thought; 

Therefore  of  death  we  thinke  with  quiet  mind : 
But  if  we  thinke  of  being  turn'd  to  nought, 

A  trembling  horror  in  our  soules  we  find. 
And  as  the  better  spirit,  when  she  doth  beare 

A  scorne  of  death,  doth  shew  she  cannot  dye ; 
So  when  the  wicked  Soule  death's  face  doth  feare, 

Euen  then  she  proues  her  owne  eternity. 

For  when  Death's  forme  appeares,  she  feareth  not 
An  vtter  quenching  or  extinguishment ; 

She  would  be  glad  to  meete  with  such  a  lot, 
That  so  shee  might  all  future  ill  preuent. 

But  she  doth  doubt  what  after  may  befall ; 

For  Nature's  law  accuseth  her  within, 
And  saith,  Tis  true  that  is  affirm'd  by  all, 

That  after  death  there  is  a  paine  for  sinne. 

Then  she  which  hath  bene  hudwinckt  from  her 

Doth  first  herselfe  within  Death's  mirrour  see  ; 

THE    IMMORTALITY    OP    THE    SOUL.         93 

And  when  her  bodie  doth  returne  to  earth, 
She  first  takes  care  how  she  alone  shal  be. 

Who  euer  sees  these  irreligious  men 

With  burthen  of  a  sicknessse  weake  and  faint, 

But  heares  them  talking  of  religion  then, 
And  vowing  of  their  soules  to  euery  saint  ? 

When  was  there  euer  cursed  atheist  brought 

Vnto  the  gibbet,  but  he  did  adore 
That  blessed  Power,  which  he  had  set  at  nought, 

Scorn'd  and  blasphemed  all  his  life  before  ? 

These  light  vaine  persons  still  are  drunke  and  mad 
With  surfettings  and  pleasures  of  their  youth ; 

But  at  their  deaths  they  are  fresh,  sober,  sad ; 
Then  they  discerne,  and  then  they  speake  the 

If  then  all  soules,  both  good  and  bad,  do  teach, 
With  generall  voyce,  that  soules  can  neuer  dye ; 

'Tis  not  man's  flatt'ring  glose,  but  Nature's  speach, 
Which,  like  God's  oracle,  can  neuer  lye. 

Hence  springs  that  vniuersal  strong  desire, 

Which  all  men  haue,  of  Immortalitie : 
Not  some  few  spirits  vnto  this  thought  aspire, 

But  all  men's  minds  in  this  vnited  bee. 
Then  this  desire  of  Nature  is  not  vaine ; 

She  couets  not  impossibilities : 
Fond  thoughts  may  fall  into  some  idle  braine, 

But  one  assent  of  all  is  euer  wise. 
From  hence  that  generall  care  and  studie  springs, 

That  launching  and  progression  of  the  mind, 
Which  all  men  haue  so  much  of  future  things, 

As  they  no  ioy  doe  in  the  present  find. 
From  this  desire  that  maine  desire  proceeds, 

Which  all  men  haue  suruiuing  fame  to  gaine, 

94  SIR    JOHN    DAVIES. 

By  tombes,  by  bookes,  by  memorable  deedes  ; 
For  she  that  this  desires  doth  still  remaine. 

Hence,  lastly,  springs  care  of  posterities ; 

For  things  their  kind  would  euerlasting  make : 
Hence  is  it  that  old  men  doe  plant  young  trees, 

The  fruit  whereof  another  age  shall  take. 

If  we  these  rules  vnto  ourselues  apply, 

And  view  them  by  reflection  of  the  mind, 
All  these  true  notes  of  immortalitie 

In  our  hearts'  tables  we  shall  written  find. 
And  though   some   impious   wits    do    questions 

And  doubt  if  soules  immortal  be,  or  no  ; 
That  doubt  their  immortalitie  doth  proue, 

Because  they  seeme  immortal  things  to  know. 

For  he  which  reasons  on  both  parts  doth  bring, 
Doth  some  things  mortal,  some  immortal  call: 

Now,  if  himselfe  were  but  a  mortall  thing, 
He  could  not  iudge  immortall  things  at  all. 

For  when   we   iudge,   our  minds   wee  mirrours 
make  ; 

And  as  those  glasses  which  material  bee, 
Formes  of  materiall  things  do  onely  take ; 

For  thoughts  or  minds  in  them  we  cannot  see  ; 

So  when  wee  God  and  angels  do  conceive, 

And  think  of  truth,  which  is  eternal  too, 
Then  doe  our  minds  immortal  forms  receive, 

Which,  if  they  mortal  were,  they  could  not 

And  as,  if  beasts  conceived  what  reason  were, 

And  that  conception  should  distinctly  shew, 
They  should  the  name  of  reasonable  beare ; 

For  without  reason  none  could  reason  know ; 

THE    IMMORTALITY    OF    THE    SOUL.         95 

So  when  the  Soule  mounts  with  so  high  a  wing, 
As  of  eternal  things  she  doubts  can  moue, 

She  proofes  of  her  eternity  doth  bring, 

Ev'n  when  she  strives  the  contrary  to  prove. 

For  ev'n  the  thought  of  immortality, 

Being  an  act  done  without  the  bodie's  aid, 

Shews  that  herself  alone  could  moue  and  bee, 

Although  the  body  in  the  graue  were  laid. 


0  !  WHAT  is  man,  great  Maker  of  mankind  ! 

That  thou  to  him  so  great  respect  dost  beare  ; 
That  thou  adornst  him  with  so  bright  a  mind, 

Mak'st  him  a  king,  and  euen  an  angels'  peere  ? 

0  !  what  a  liuelie  life,  what  heauenly  power, 
What  spreading  vertue,  what  a  sparkling  fire, 

How  great,  how  plentifull,  how  rich  a  dowre, 
Dost  thou  within  this  dying  flesh  inspire ! 

Thou  leau'st  thy  print  in  other  workes  of  thine, 
But  thy  whole  image  thou  in  man  hast  writ: 

There  cannot  be  a  creature  more  diuine, 
Except,  like  thee,  it  should  be  infinit. 

But  it  exceeds  man's  thought  to  thinke  how  high 
God  hath  raisd  man,  since  God  a  man  became: 

The  angels  doe  admire  this  mysterie, 

And  are  astonisht  when  they  view  the  same. 

Nor  hath  he  giuen  these  blessings  for  a  day, 
Nor  made  them  on  the  bodie's  life  depend : 

The  soule,  though  made  in  time,  suruiues  for  aye ; 
And  though  it  hath  beginning,  sees  no  end. 

96  SIR    JOHN    DAVIES. 


0  IGNORANT  poore  man !  what  doost  thou  beare 
Lockt  vp  within  the  casket  of  thy  breast  ? 

What  iewels,  and  what  riches  hast  thou  there  ? 
What  heauenly  treasure  in  so  weake  a  chest  ? 

Looke  in  thy  soule,  and  thou  shalt  beauties  find 
Like   those   which   drovvnd   Narcissus  in   the 
floud : 

Honor  and  pleasure  both  are  in  thy  mind, 
And  all  that  in  the  world  is  counted  good. 

Thinke  of  her  worth,  and  thinke  that  God  did 

This     worthy    mind    should     worthy    things 

embrace : 

Blot  not  her  beauties  with  thy  thoughts  vncleane, 
Nor  her  dishonor  with  thy  passions  base. 

Kill  not  her  quick' ning  power  with  surfettings ; 

Mar  not  her  sense  with  sensualities; 
Cast  not  her  serious  wit  on  idle  things  ; 

Make  not  her  free  will  slaue  to  vanities. 

And  when  thou  thinkst  of  her  eternitie, 

Thinke  not  that  death  against  her  nature  is : 

Thinke  it  a  birth  ;  and  when  thou  goest  to  die, " 
Sing  like  a  swan,  as  if  thou  wentst  to  blisse. 

And  thou,  my  Soule,  which  turnst  thy  curious 

To  view  the  beames  of  thine  owne  form  diuine, 
Know  that  thou  canst  know  nothing  perfectly, 

While  thou  art  clouded  with  this  flesh  of  mine. 

Take  heed  of  ouer- weening,  and  compare 

Thy  peacock's   feet  with   thy   gay  peacock's 
train e  : 

WORTH    OF     THE    SOUL.  97 

Studie  the  best  and  highest  things  that  are, 
But  of  thyselfe  an  humble  thought  retaine. 

Cast  downe  thyselfe,  and  onely  striue  to  raise 
The  glorie  of  thy  Maker's  sacred  Name  : 

Vse  all  thy  powers  that  blessed  power  to  praise, 
Which  giues  thee  power  to  be,  and  vse  the 


THE  lights  of  Heauen  (which  are  the  world's  fair 

Looke  downe  into  the  world,  the  world  to  see ; 
And  as  they  turne  or  wander  in  the  skies, 

Surueigh  all  things  that  on  this  center  bee. 

And  yet  the  lights  which  in  my  towre  do  shine, 
Mine  eyes,  which  view  all  obiects,  nigh  and 

Looke  not  into  this  little  world  of  mine. 
Nor  see  my  face,  wherein  they  fixed  are. 

Since  Nature  failes  vs  in  no  needfull  thing, 
Why  want  I  meanes  mine  inward  selfe  to  see  ? 

Which  sight  the   knowledge  of  myselfe   might 

^  bring, 
Which  to  true  wisdome  is  the  first  degree. 

That  powre,  which  gaue  me  eyes  the  world  to 

To  view  myselfe  enfusd  an  inward  light, 
Whereby  my  soule,  as  by  a  mirror  true, 

Of  her  own  forme  may  take  a  perfect  sight. 

But  as  the  sharpest  eye  discerneth  nought, 
Except  the  sun-beames  in  the  aire  doe  shine ; 

So  the  best  sense  with  her  reflecting  thought 
Seekes  not  herselfe  without  some  light  diuine. 


98  SIR    JOHN    DAVIES. 

0  Light,  which  mak'st  the   light   which  makes 
the  day, 

Which  setst  the  eye  without,  and  mind  within, 
Lighten  my  spirit  with  one  cleare  heauenly  ray, 

Which  now  to  view  itselfe  doth  first  begin. 

For  her  true  forme  how  can  my  sparke  discerne, 
Which,  dimme  by  nature,  art  did  neuer  cleare, 

When  the  great  wits,  of  whom  all  skill  we  learne, 
Are  ignorant  both  what  shee  is,  and  where  ? 

One  thinks  the  soule  is  aire ;  another,  fire  ; 

Another,  blood  defus'd  about  the  hart ; 
Another  saith  the  elements  conspire, 

And  to  her  essence  each  doth  giue  a  part. 

Musicians  thinke  our  souls  are  harmonies  ; 

Physicians  hold  that  they  complexions  bee ; 
Epicures  make  them  swarmes  of  atomies, 

Which  do  by  chaunce  into  our  bodies  flee. 

Some  thinke  one  generall  soule  fils  euery  braine, 
As  the  bright  sunne  sheds  light  in  euery  starre  ; 

And  others  thinke  the  name  of  soule  is  vaine, 
And  that  we  onely  well-mixt  bodies  are. 

In  Judgment  of  her  substance  thus  they  varie  ; 

And  thus  they  varie  in  iudgment  of  her  seate  : 
For  some  her  chaire  vp  to  the  braine  do  carrie, 

Some  thrust  it  downe  into  the  stomake's  heate. 

Some  place  it  in  the  roote  of  life,  the  hart  ; 

Some  in  the  liuer,  fountaine  of  the  vaines  ; 
Some  say  she  is  all  in  all,  and  all  in  part : 

Some  say  she  is  not  containd,  but  all  containes. 

Thus  these  great  clerks  their  little  wisedome  shew, 
While  with  their  doctrines  they  at  hazard  play ; 

Tossing  their  light  opinions  to  and  fro, 

To  mocke  the  lewd,  as  learnd  in  this  as  they. 

THE    SOUL.  99 

For  no  craz'd  braine  could  euer  yet  propound 
Touching    the    soule    so    vaine    and    fond    a 

thought ; 

But  some  among  these  maisters  haue  been  found, 
Which  in   their  schooles  the   self-same  thing 
haue  taught. 

God  onely  wise,  to  punish  pride  of  wit, 

Among  men's  wits  hath  this  confusion  wrought ; 

As  the  proud  towre,  whose  points  the  clouds  did 

By  tongues'  confusion  was  to  ruine  brought. 

But  Thou,  which  didst  man's  soule  of  nothing 

And  when  to  nothing  it  was  fallen  agen, 
To  make  it  new,  the  forme  of  man  didst  take, 

And  God  with  God  becam'st  a  man  with  men  ; 

Thou,  that  hast  fashioned  twise  this  soule  of  ours, 

So  that  she  is  by  double  title  thine, 
Thou  onely  knowest  her  nature  and  her  powers ; 

Her  subtile  forme  thou  onely  canst  define. 

To  iudge  herselfe  she  must  herselfe  transcend ; 

As  greater  circles  comprehend  the  lesse : 
But  she  wants  power  her  owne  power  to  extend ; 

As  fettred  men  cannot  their  strength  expresse. 

But  thou,  bright  morning  Starre,  thou  rising 

Which  in  these  later  times  hast  brought  to  light 
Those  mysteries,  that,  since  the  world  begun, 

Lay  hid  in  darknesse  and  eternall  night; 

Thou,  like  the  sunne,  dost  with  indifferent  ray 
Into  the  pallace  and  the  cottage  shine, 

And  shew'st  the  soule  both  to  the  clarke  and  lay 
By  the  cleere  lampe  of  thy  oracle  diuine. 


100  SIR    JOHN    DAVIES. 

This  lampe  through  all  the  regions  of  my  braine, 
Where  my  soule  sits,  doth  spread  such  beames 
of  grace, 

As  now,  methinks,  I  do  distinguish  plain 
Each  subtill  line  of  her  immortall  face. 

The  soule  a  substance  and  a  spirit  is, 

Which  God  himselfe  doth  in  the  bodie  make, 

Which  makes  the  man :  for  euery  man  from  this 
The  nature  of  a  man  and  name  doth  take. 

And  though  this  spirit  be  to  the  bodie  knit, 
As  an  apt  meane  her  powers  to  exercise, 

Which  are  life,  motion,  sense,  and  will,  and  wit, 
Yet  she  suruiues,  although  the  bodie  dies. 


WHY  did  my  parents  send  me  to  the  schooles, 
That  I  with  knowledge  might  enrich  my  mind, 

Since  the  desire  to  know  first  made  men  fooles, 
And  did  corrupt  the  roote  of  all  mankind  ? 

For  when  God's  hand  had  written  in  the  harts 
Of  the  first  parents  all  the  rules  of  good, 

So  that  their  skill  enfusd  did  passe  all  arts 
That  euer  were,  before  or  since  the  flood  ; 

And  when  their  reason's   eye   was  sharpe    and 

And,  as  an  eagle  can  behold  the  sunne, 
Could  haue  approch't  th'  eternall  light  as  neere 

As  the  intellectual  angels  could  haue  done  ; 

Euen  then  to  them  the  spirit  of  lies  suggests, 
That  they  were  blind,  because  they  saw  not  ill, 

And  breathes  into  their  incorrupted  breasts 
A  curious  wish,  which  did  corrupt  their  will. 

FALSE    AND    TRUE    KNOWLEDGE.         101 

For  that  same  ill  they  straight  desir'd  to  know  ; 

Which  ill,  being  nought  but  a  defect  of  good, 
In  all  God's  works  the  diuell  could  not  shew, 

While  man,  their  lord,  in  his  perfection  stood : 

So  that  themselues  were  first  to  do  the  ill, 

Ere  they  thereof  the  knowledge  could  attaine  ; 

Like  him  that  knew  not  poison's  power  to  kill, 
Vntill,  by  tasting  it,  himself e  was  slaine. 

Euen  so,  by  tasting  of  that  fruite  forbid, 

Where  they  sought  knowledge,  they  did  error 

111  they  desir'd  to  know,  and  ill  they  did  ; 

And,  to  giue  Passion  eyes,  made  Reason  blind : 

For  then  their  minds  did  first  in  Passion  see 
Those  wretched  shapes  of  miserie  and  woe, 

Of  nakednesse,  of  shame,  of  pouertie, 

Which  then  their  owrie- experience  made  them 

But  then  grew  Reason  darke,  that  she  no  more 
Could  the   faire  formes  of  Good  and  Truth 
discerne : 

Battes  they  became,  who  eagles  were  before ; 
And  this  they  got  by  their  desire  to  learne. 

But  we,  their  wretched  offspring,  what  do  we  ? 

Doe  not  wee  still  tast  of  the  fruite  forbid, 
Whiles,  with  fond  fruitlesse  curiositie, 

In  bookes  prophane  we  seeke  for  knowledge 

hid?    ' 
What  is  this  knowledge  but  the  skie-stolne  fire, 

For  which  the  thiefe1  still  chain'd  in  ice  doth  sit, 
And  which  the  poore  rude  satyre2  did  admire, 

And  needs  would  kisse,  but  burnt  his  lips  with  it? 

1  Prometheus.  2  See  yEsop's  Fables. 

102  SIR    JOHN    DAVIES. 

What  is  it  but  the  cloud  of  emptie  raine, 

Which  when  loue's  guest  ^mbrac't,  he  monsters 

Or  the  false  pailes2,  which,  oft  being  fild  with 

Receiu'd  the  water,  but  retain'd  it  not  ? 

Shortly,  what  is  it  but  the  fierie  coach, 

Which  the  youth3  sought,  and  sought  his  death 

withall  ? 

Or  the  boye's4  wings,  which,  when  he  did  approch 
The  sunne's  hote  beames,  did  melt  and  let  him 

And  yet,  alas !  when  all  our  lampes  are  burnd, 

Our  bodies  wasted,  and  our  spirits  spent ; 
When  we  haue  all  the  learned  volumes  turnd, 

Which    yeeld    men's    wits     both    helpe    and 

ornament ; 
What  can  we  know,  or  what  can  we  discern e, 

When  error  chokes  the  windowes  of  the  minde? 
The  diuers  formes  of  things  how  can  we  learne, 

That  haue  bene  euer  from  our  birth-day  blind  ? 

When  Reason's  lampe,  which,  like  the  sunne  in 

Throughout  man's  litle  world  her  beames  did 

Is  now  become  a  sparkle,  which  doth  lie 

Vnder  the  ashes,  halfe  extinct  and  dead  ; 
How  can  we  hope  that  through  the  eye  and  eare 

This  dying  sparkle,  in  this  cloudie  place, 
Can  recollect  these  beames  of  knowledge  cleare, 

Which  were  enfus'd  in  the  first  minds  by  grace? 

Ixion.         2  Of  the  Danaides.        3  Phaeton.       4  Icarus. 

FALSE    AND    TRUE    KNOWLEDGE.         103 

So  might  the  heire,  whose  father  hath  in  play 

Wasted  a  thousand  pound  of  auncient  rent, 
By  painefull  earning  of  one  grote  a  day, 

"Hope  to  restore  the  patrimonie  spent. 
The  wits  that  div'd  most  deepe  and  soar'd  most  hie, 

Seeking  man's  povv'rs,  haue  found  his  weaknes 

Skill  comes  so  slow,  and  life  so  fast  doth  flie ; 

We  learne  so  litle,  and  forget  so  much  : 

For  this  the  wisest  of  all  morall  men 

Said,  he  knew  nought,  but  that  he  nought  did 

know  ; 
And  the  great  mocking  maister  mockt  not  then, 

When  he  said,  Truth  was  buried  deepe  below. 

For  how  may  we  to  other  things  attaine, 

WThen  none  of  vs  his  own  so.ule  vnderstands  ? 

For  which  the  diuell  mockes  our  curious  braine, 
When,  Know  thysdfe,  his  oracle  commands. 

For  why  should  we  the  husie  soule  beleeue, 

When  boldly  she  concludes  of  that  and  this, 
When  of  herselfe  she  can  no  iudgment  geue, 

Nor  how,  nor  whence,  nor  where,  nor  what  she 

All  things  without,  which  round  about  we  see, 

We  seeke  to  know,  and  how  therewith  to  do  : 
But  that  whereby  we  reason,  Hue,  and  be, 

Within  ourselves,  we  strangers  are  thereto. 
We  seeke  to  know  the  inouing  of  each  spheare, 

And  the  straunge  cause  of  th'  ebbs  and  flouds 

of  Nile  j 
But  of  that  clocke  within  our  breasts  we  beare, 

The  subtill  motions  we  forget  the  while. 
We  that  acquaint  ourselues  with  euery  zoane, 

And  pass  both  tropikes,  and  behold  both  poles, 

104  SIR    JOHN    DAVIES. 

When  we  come  home,  are  to  ourselues  vnknovvne, 
And  vnacquainted  still  with  our  own  soules. 

We  studie  speech,  but  others  we  perswade ; 

We  leech-craft  learne,  but  others  cure  with  it ; 
We  interpret  lawes  which  other  men  haue  made, 

But  reade  not  those  which  in  our  harts  are  writ. 

It  is  because  the  minde  is  like  the  eye, 

Through  which  it  gathers  knowledge  by  degrees ; 

Whose  rayes  reflect  not,  but  spread  outwardly  ; 
Not  seeing  itselfe,  when  other  things  it  sees. 

No,  doubtlesse :  for  the  minde  can  backward  cast 
Vpon  herself  her  vnderstanding  light ; 

But  she  is  so  corrupt,  and  so  defac't, 

And  her  owne  image  doth  herselfe  affright : 

As  is  the  fable  of  the  ladie  faire, 

Which  for  her  lust  was  turn'd  into  a  cow ; 

When  thirstie  to  a  streame  she  did  repaire, 

And  saw  herselfe  transform'd,  she  wist  not  how, 

At  first  she  startles,  then  she  stands  amaz'd  ; 

At  last  with  terror  she  from  thence  doth  flie, 
And  loathes  the  watrie  glasse  wherein  she  gaz'd, 

And  shunnes  it  still,  though  she  for  thirst  do  die. 

Euen  so  man's  soule,   which  did   God's   image 

And  was  at   first  faire,   good,   and    spotlesse 

Since  with  her  sinnes  her  beauties  blotted  were, 

Doth  of  all  sights  her  owne  sight  least  endure : 
For  euen  at  first  reflection  she  espies 

Such   strange    chymeras,  and   such  monsters 


Such  toyes,  such  antikes,  and  such  vanities, 
As  she  retires  and  shrinkes  for  shame  and  feare. 

FALSE    AND    TRUE    KNOWLEDGE.         105 

And  as  the  man  loues  least  at  home  to  bee, 
That    hath    a    sluttish    house,    haunted    with 

sprites ; 
So  she,  impatient  her  owne  faults  to  see, 

Turnes  from  herselfe,  and  in  strange   things 

For  this,   few  know  themselues:   for  merchants 

View  their  estate  with  discontent  and  paine ; 
And  seas  are  troubled,  when  they  doe  reuoke 

Their  flowing  waues  into  themselues  againe. 

And  while  the  face  of  outward  things  we  find 
Pleasing  and  faire,  agreeable  and  sweete, 

These  things  transport,  and  carrie  out  the  mind, 
That  with  herselfe  herselfe  can  neuer  meete. 

Yet  if  Affliction  once  her  warres  begin, 

And  threat  the  feeble  Sense  with  sword  and 

The  minde  contracts  herselfe,  and  shrinketh  in, 
And  to  herselfe  she  gladly  doth  retire  ; 

As  spiders  toucht  seeke  their  web's  inmost  part ; 

As  bees  in  stormes  vnto  their  hiues  returne  ; 
As  bloud  in  danger  gathers  to  the  hart ; 

As  men  seek  towns,  when  foes  the   country 

If  ought  can  teach  vs  ought,  Affliction's  lookes, 
Making  vs  looke  vnto  ourselues  so  neare, 

Teach  vs  to  know  ourselues  beyond  all  bookes, 
Or  all  the  learned  schooles  that  euer  were. 

This  mistresse  lately  pluckt  me  by  the  eare, 
And  many  a  golden  lesson  hath  me  taught ; 

Hath  made  my  senses  quicke,  and  reason  cleare, 
Reformd  my  will,  and  rectifide  my  thought. 



So^do  the  winds  and  thunder  cleanse  the  ayre ; 

So  working  leas  settle  and  purge  the  wine  ; 
So  lopt  and  pruned  trees  doe  florish  faire  ; 

So  doth  the  fire  the  drossie  gold  refine. 
Neither  Mincrua,  nor  the  learned  Muse, 

Nor  rules  of  art,  nor  precepts  of  the  wise, 
Could  in  my  braine  those  beames  of  skill  enfuse, 

As  but  the  glaunce  of  this  dame's  angrie  eyes. 
Shee  within  listes  my   raunging   mind   hath 

That  now  beyond  myselfe  I  will  not  go  : 
Myselfe  am  center  of  my  circling  thought, 

Onely  myselfe  I  studie,  learne,  and  know. 
I  know  my  body's  of  so  fraile  a  kinde, 

As  force  without,  feauers  within  can  kill : 
I  know  the  heauenly  nature  of  my  minde, 

But  'tis  corrupted  both  in  wit  and  will. 
I  know  my  soule  hath  power  to  know  all  things, 

Yet  is  she  blinde  and  ignorant  in  all : 
I  know  I  am  one  of  Nature's  litle  kings, 

Yet  to  the  least  and  vilest  things  am  thrall. 
I  know  my  life's  a  paine,  and  but  a  span  ; 

I  know  my  sense  is  mockt  with  euery  thing  ; 
And,  to  conclude,  I  know  myselfe  a  man, 

Which  is  a  proud,  and  yet  a  wretched  thing. 




WHEN  as  man's  life,  the  light  of  humane  lust, 
In  soacket  of  his  early  lanthorne  burnes, 
That  all  this  glory  vnto  ashes  must, 
And  generations  to  corruption  turnes  ; 

Then  fond  desires,  that  onely  feare  their  end, 
Doe  vainely  wish  for  life  but  to  amend. 

But  when  this  life  is  from  the  body  fled, 

To  see  itselfe  in  that  eternall  glasse, 

Where  time  doth  end,  and  thoughts  accuse  the 

Where  all  to  come  is  one  with  all  that  was  ; 
Then  liuing  men  aske  how  he  left  his  breath, 
That  while  he  liued  never  thought  of  death  1 


Man,  dreame  no  more  of  curious  mysteries, 
And  what  was  here  before  the  world  was  made  ; 
The  first  man's  life,  the  state  of  Paradise, 
Where  heauen  is,  or  hell's  eternal  shade : 
For  God's  works  are,  like  him,  all  infinite, 
And  curious  search  but  craftie  sinnes  delight. 

The  flood  that  did,  and  dreadfull  fire  that  shall, 
Drowne  and  burne  vp  the  malice  of  the  earth, 
The  diuers  tongues  and  Babylon's  downefall, 
Are  nothing  to  the  man's  renewed  birth : 

108        FULKE    GREVILLE,    LORD    BROOKE. 

First,  let  the  Law  plough  vp  thy  wicked  heart, 
That  Christ  may  come,  and  all  these  types  de 

When  thou  hast  swept  the  house  that  all  is  cleare  ; 

When  thou  the  dust  hast  shaken  from  thy  feete ; 

When  God's  All-might  doth  in  thy  flesh  appeare, 

Then  seas  with  streames  aboue  the  skye  do  meete : 
For  goodnesse  onely  doth  God  comprehend, 
Knovves  what  was  first,  and  what  shall  be  the 


The  Manicheans  did  no  idolls  make 
Without  themselues,  nor  worship  gods  of  wood ; 
Yet  idolls  did  in  their  ideas  take, 
And  figur'd  Christ  as  on  the  cross  he  stood : 
Thus  did  they  when  they  earnestly  did  pray, 
Till  clearer  faith  this  idoll  tooke  away. 
We  seeme  more  inwardly  to  knowe  the  Sonne, 
And  see  our  owne  saluation  in  his  blood  : 
When  this  is  said,  we  thinke  the  worke  is  done, 
And  with  the  Father  hold  our  portion  good  : 
As  if  true  life  within  these  words  were  laid 
For  him  that  in  life  neuer  words  obey'd. 
If  this  be  safe,  it  is  a  pleasant  way  ; 
The  crosse  of  Christ  is  very  easily  borne  : 
But  sixe  dayes'  labour  makes  the  Sabboth-day; 
The  flesh  is  dead  before  grace  can  be  borne : 
The  heart  must  first  beare  witnesse  with  the 


The  earth  must  burne,  ere  we  for  Christ  can 


Eternall  Truth,  almighty,  infinite, 
Onely  exiled  from  man's  fleshly  heart, 

SONNETS.  109 

Where  ignorance  and  disobedience  fight, 

In  hell  and  sinne  which  shall  haue  greatest  part ; 

When  thy  sweet  mercy  opens  forth  the  light 
Of  grace,  which  giueth  eyes  vnto  the  blinde, 
And  with  the  Law  euen  plowest  up  our  sprite 
To  faith,  wherein  flesh  may  saluation  finde, 

Thou  bidst  vs  pray ;  and  wee  doe  pray  to  thee  : 
But  as  to  power  and  God  without  vs  plac'd. 
Thinking  a  wish  may  weare  out  vanity, 
Or  habits  be  by  miracles  defac'd, 

One  thought  to  God  wee  giue,  the  rest  to  sinne : 
Quickly  vnbent  is  all  desire  of  good  ; 
True  words  passe  out,  but  haue  no  being  within  ; 
Wee  pray  to  Christ,  yet  helpe  to  shed  his  blood : 

For  while  we  say  beleeve,  and  feele  it  not, 
Promise  amends,  and  yet  despaire  in  it, 
Heare  Sodom  iudg'd,  and  goe  not  out  with  Lot, 
Make  Law  and  Gospell  riddles  of  the  wit  ; 

Wee  with  the  Jewes  euen  Christ  still  crucifie, 

As  not  yet  come  to  our  impiety. 


Wrapt  vp,  0  Lord,  in  man's  degeneration, 
The  glories  of  thy  truth,  thy  ioyes  eternall, 
Reflect  vpon  my  soule  darke  desolation 
And  vgly  prospects  ore  the  sp'rits  infernall : 

Lord,  I  haue  sinn'd,  and  mine  iniquity 

Deserues  this  hell;  yet,  Lord,  deliuer  me. 
Thy  power  and  mercy  neuer  comprehended 
Rest,  liuely  imag'd  in  my  conscience  wounded ; 
Mercy  to  grace,  and  power  to  feare  extended, 
Both  infinite,  and  I  in  both  confounded  : 

Lord,  I  haue  sinn'd,  and  mine  iniquity 

Deserues  this  hell ;  yet,  Lord,  deliuer  me. 
If  from  this  depth  of  sinne,  this  hellish  graue, 
And  fatall  absence  from  my  Sauiour's  glory, 

110       FULKE    GREVILLE,    LORD    BROOKE. 

I  could  implore  his  mercy  who  can  saue, 
And  for  my  sinnes,  not  paines  of  sinne,  be  sorry; 
Lord,  from  this  horror  of  iniquity, 
And  hellish  graue,  thou  vvouldst  deliuer  me. 


Downe  in  the  depth  of  mine  iniquity, 
That  vgly  center  of  infernal!  spirits, 
Where  each  sinne  feeles  her  own  deformity, 
In  those  peculiar  torments  she  inherits — 
Depriu'd  of  human  graces  and  diuine, 
Euen  there  appeares  this  sailing  God  of  mine. 
And  in  this  fatall  mirrour  of  transgression, 
Shewes  man,  as  fruit  of  his  degeneration, 
The  errours  vgly  infinite  impression, 
Which  beares  the  faithlesse  down  to  desperation — 
Depriu'd  of  human  graces  and  diuine, 
Euen  there  appeares  this  sauing  God  of  mine. 
In  power  and  birth,  Almighty  arid  Eternall, 
Which  on  the  sinne  reflects  strange  desolation, 
With  glory  scourging  all  the  spirits  infernall, 
And  vncreated  hell  with  vnpriuation, 
Depriu'd  of  human  graces  and  diuine, 
Euen  there  appeares  this  sauing  God  of  mine. 
For  on  this  spirituall  Crosse,  condemned,  lying, 
To  paines  infernall  by  eternal  doome, 
I  see  my  Sauiour  for  the  same  sinnes  dying, 
And  from  that  hell  I  fear'd  to  free  me  come ; 
Depriu'd  of  human  graces,  not  diuine, 
Thus  hath  his  death  rais'd  vp  this  soule  of  mine. 


The  serpent  Sinne,  by  shewing  humane  lust 
Visions  and  dreames,  inticed  man  to  doe 
Follies,  in  which  exceed  his  God  he  must, 
And  know  more  than  he  was  created  to: 


A  charme  which  made  the  vgly  sinne  seeme 


And  is  by  falne  spirits  onely  vnderstood. 
Now  man  no  sooner  from  his  meane  creation 
Trode  this  excesse  of  vncreated  sinne, 
But  straight  he  chaung'd  his  being  to  priuation, 
Horrour  and  death  at  this  gate  passing  in ; 
Whereby  immortall  life,  made  for  man's  good, 
Is  since  become  the  hell  of  flesh  and  blood. 
But  grant  that  there  were  no  eternity ; 
That  life  were  all,  and  pleasure  life  of  it : 
In  shine's  excesse  there  yet  confusions  be, 
Which  spoyle  his  place,  and  passionate  his  wit ; 
Making  his  nature  lesse,  his  reason  thrall 
To  tyranny  of  vice  vnnaturall. 
And  as  hell-fires,  not  wanting  heat,  want  light, 
So  these  strange  witchcrafts,  which  like  pleasures 


Not  wanting  faire  inticements,  want  delight, 
Inward  being  nothing  but  deformity, 

And  doe  at  open  doores  let  fraile  powers  in 
To  that  straight  bidding  Little  Ease  of  sinne. 
Is  there  ought  more  wonderfull  than  this — 
That  man,  euen  in  the  state  of  his  perfection, 
All  things  vncurst,  nothing  yet  done  amisse, 
And  so  in  him  no  base  of  his  defection, 

Should  fall  from  God,  and  breake  his  Maker's 


Which  could  haue  no  end,  but  to  know  the  ill  ? 
I  aske  the  rather,  since  in  Paradise 
Eternity  was  obiect  to  his  passion, 
And  hee  in  goodnesse  like  his  Maker,  wise 
As  from  his  spirit  taking  life  and  fashion  ; 
What  greater  power  there  was  to  master  this, 
Or  how  a  less  could  worke,  my  question  is  ? 

112       FULKE    GREVILLE,     LORD    BROOKE. 

For  who  made  all,  'tis  sure  yet  could  not  make 
Any  aboue  himselfe,  as  princes  can, 
So  as  against  his  will  no  power  could  take 
A  creature  from  him,  nor  corrupt  a  man ; 

And  yet  who  thinks  he  marr'd  that  made  vs 

As  well  may  think  God  lesse  than  flesh  and 


Where  did  our  being  then  seeke  out  priuation  ? 
Aboue,  within,  without  vs,  all  was  pure ; 
Onely  the  angels  from  their  discreation, 
By  smart  declar'd  no  being  was  secure, 

But  that  transcendent  goodnesse,   which   sub 

By  forming  and  reforming  what  it  lists. 
So  as  within  the  man  there  was  no  more 
But  possibility  to  worke  upon, 
And  in  these  spirits  which  were  fain  before 
An  abstract  curst  eternity  alone  ; 

Refined  by  their  high  places  in  creation, 
To  adde  more  craft  and  malice  to  temptation. 
Now  with  what  force  upon  these  middle  spheares 
Of  Probable  and  Possibility  ; 
Which  no  one  constant  demonstration  beares, 
And  so  can  neither  bind,  nor  bounded  be  ; 

What  those  could  work,  that,  hailing  lost  their 

Aspire  to  be  our  tempters  and  our  rod, 

Too  well  is  witness'd  by  this  fall  of  ours : 
For  wee,  not  knowing  yet  that  there  was  ill, 
Gaue  easie  credit  to  deceiuing  powers, 
Who  wrought  vpon  vs  onely  by  our  will ; 
Perswading,  like  it,  all  was  to  it  free, 
Since,  where  no  sinne  was,  there  no  law  could 

SONNETS.  113 

And  as  all  finite  things  seeke  infinite, 
From  thence  deriuing  what  beyond  them  is, 
So  man  was  led  by  charmes  of  this  dark  sp'rit, 
Which  hee  could  not  know  till  hee  did  amisse, 

To  trust  those  serpents,  who  learn'd  since  they 

Knew  more  than  we  did,  euen  their  own  made 


Which  crafty  oddes  made  vs  those  clouds  imbrace, 
Where  sinne  in  ambush  lay  to  ouerthrow 
Nature,  that  would  presume  to  fadome  grace, 
Or  could  beleeue  what  God  said  was  not  so. 

Sinne,  then  we  knewthee  not,  and  could  not  hate ; 

And  now  we  know  thee,  now  it  is  too  late. 


O  false  and  treacherous  probability, 
Enemy  of  truth,  and  friend  to  wickednesse, 
With  whose  bleare  eyes  opinion  learnes  to  see 
Truth's  feeble  party  here,  and  barrennesse  : 
When  thou  hast  thus  misled  humanity, 
And  lost  obedience  in  the  pride  of  wit, 
With  reason  dar'st  thou  iudge  the  Deity, 
And  in  thy  flesh  make  bold  to  fashion  it  ? 
Vaine  thought !  the  word  of  power  a  riddle  is, 
And  till  the  vayles  be  rent,  the  flesh  new  borne, 
Reueales  no  wonders  of  that  inward  blisse, 
Which,  but   where  faith  is,  euery  where  findes 

scorne : 

Who  therefore  censures  God  with  fleshly  sp'rit, 
As  well  in  Time  may  wrap  vp  Infinite. 


Syon  lyes  waste,  and  thy  Jerusalem, 
O  Lord,  is  falne  to  vtter  desolation  : 

[ELIZ.  POETS.]  8 

114      FULKE    GREVILLE,    LORD    BROOKE. 

Against  thy  prophets  and  thy  holy  men 
The  sinne  hath  wrought  a  fatall  combination  ; 
Prophan'd  thy  name,  thy  worship  ouerthrowne, 
And  made  thee,  liuing  Lord,  a  God  vnknowne. 
Thy  powerfull  lawes,  thy  wonders  of  creation, 
Thy  Word  incarnate,  glorious  heauen,  darke  hell, 
Lye  shadowed  vnder  man's  degeneration, 
Thy  Christ  still  crucifi'd  for  doing  well : 
Impiety,  O  Lord,  sits  on  thy  throne, 
Which  makes  thee,   liuing  Light,  a  God  vn 

Man's  superstition  hath  thy  truths  entomb'd, 
His  atheisme  againe  her  pomps  defaceth  ; 
That  sensuall,  vnsatiable,  vast  wombe 
Of    thy    seene    Church     thy    unseene     Church 

disgraceth : 
There  Hues  no  truth  with  them  that  seem  thine 


Which  makes  thee,  lining  Lord,   a  God   vn 

Yet  vnto  thee,  Lord,  (mirrour  of  transgression,) 
Wee,  who  for  earthly  idols  haue  forsaken 
Thy  heauenly  Image,  (sinlesse  pure  impression,) 
And  so  in  nets  of  vanity  lye  taken  ; 

All  desolate,  implore  that  to  thine  owne, 
Lord,  thou  no  longer  liue  a  God  vnknowne. 
Yet,  Lord,  let  Israel's  plagues  be  not  eternall, 
Nor  sinne  for  euer  cloud  thy  sacred  mountaines  ; 
Nor  with  false  flames,  spirituall  but  infernall, 
Dry  vp  thy  mercies  euer-springing  fountaines : 
Rather,  sweete  Jesus,  fill  vp  time,  and  come, 
To  yeeld  the  sinne  her  euerlasting  doome. 



WHO  feare  the  Lord  are  trewly  blest, 

That  dewly  worke  to  doe  his  will : 
Great  lands  are  by  his  seed  possesst ; 

His  howse,  his  heires,  shall  prosper  still. 
With  plenty  God  shall  blesse  his  store, 

And  stay  his  state,  that  loveth  right: 
Yf  darkenes  come,  yet  evermore 

The  Lord  shall  lend  him  happy  light. 
His  love,  his  mercie,  hee  bestowes 

On  him  that  saves  the  poore  from  wrong, 
And  gives,  and  lends,  and  kindnes  shewes, 

Yet  still  discreetly  guides  his  tongue.^ 
His  memorie  shall  ever  bide ; 

Yea,  though  in  grave  his  bones  be  layd, 
His  foote  shall  never  fayle  or  slyde; 

No  news  shall  make  his  hart  affrayd. 
He  putts  in  God  assured  trust ; 

And  trusting  so,  hee  doth  suppose 
They  need  not  shrink  whose  cause  is  just — 

He  shall  prevayle  against  his  foes. 
Hee  doth  in  hast,  but  not  in  wast, 

His  goods  disperse  to  such  as  need ; 
His  righteousness  shall  ever  last, 

His  praise  and  honor  shall  exceed. 
The  wicked  man,  when  he  this  seeth, 

That  God  the  good  doth  love  and  cherish, 
Shall  pyne  for  griefe  and  gnash  his  teeth — 

His  wicked  thoughts  with  him  shall  perish. 




BY  Babell's  brooks  we  sitt  and  weep, 

0  Sion,  when  on  thee  we  think; 
Our  harps  hang'd  upp  doe  sylence  keep 

On  trees  along  the  river's  brink: 
Yet  they  that  thralle  us  thus  by  wrong, 
Amid  our  sorrowes  aske  a  song. 
Come,  sing  us  now  a  song,  say  they, 

As  once  you  song  at  anie  hand: 
Alasse!  how  can  we  sing  or  play 

Jehovah's  songs  in  strangers'  land? 
Yet  let  my  hand  forgett  all  playes, 
If  Salem  I  forget  to  praise. 
If  Salem  byde  not  firm  in  mynd, 

Let  to  my  roofe  my  tongue  be  glew'd, 
If  other  joy  then  her  I  finde. 

Lord,  think  on  Edom's  race  so  rude, 
That  thus  that  daie  did  whet  this  nation, 
Root  up,  root  up  her  strong  foundation. 




The  Fift  Chapter. 

WITHIN  my  garden  plot, 

Loe,  I  am  present  now ! 
I  gathered  haue  the  myrrhe  and  spice 

That  in  aboundance  growe. 

With  honey,  milke,  and  wine, 

I  haue  refresht  me  here: 
Eat,  drink,  my  friends,  be  mery  there, 

With  harty  friendly  cheare. 

Although  in  slumbering  sleepe 

It  seemes  to  you  I  lay, 
Yet  heare  I  my  beloued  knock, 

Methinkes  I  heare  him  say: 

Open  to  me  the  gate, 

My  loue,  my  heart's  delight, 
For,  loe,  my  locks  are  all  bedewed 

With  drizling  drops  of  night. 

My  garments  are  put  off, 

Then  may  I  not  doo  so; 
Shal  I  defile  my  feet  I  washt 

So  white  as  any  snow? 


Then  fast  euen  by  the  dore 
To  me  he  shew'd  his  hand : 

My  heart  was  then  enamoured, 
When  as  1  saw  him  stand. 

Then  straight waies  vp  I  rose 
To  ope  the  dore  with  speed  ; 

My  handes  and  fingers  dropped  myrrhe 
Vpon  the  bar  indeede. 

Then  opened  I  the  dore 

Vnto  my  loue  at  last ; 
But  all  in  vain  ;  for  why  ?  before 

My  loue  was  gone  and  past. 
There  sought  I  for  my  loue, 

Then  could  I  crie  and  call; 
But  him  I  could  not  find,  nor  he 

Nould  answer  me  at  all. 
The  watchmen  found  me  then, 

As  thus  I  walk'd  astray ; 
They  wounded  me,  and  from  my  head 

My  vaile  they  took  away. 
Ye  daughters  of  lerusalem, 

If  ye  my  loue  doo  see, 
Tell  him  that  I  am  sicke  for  loue; 

Yea,  tel  him  this  from  me. 
Thou  peerelesse  gem  of  price, 

I  pray  thee  to  vs  tell, 
What  is  thy  loue,  what  may  he  be, 

That  doth  so  far  excell  ? 
In  my  beloued's  face 

The  rose  and  lilly  striue  ; 
Among  ten  thousand  men  not  one 

Is  found  so  faire  aliue. 
His  head  like  finest  gold, 
With  secret  sweet  perfume  ; 


His  curled  locks  hang  all  as  black 
As  any  rauen's  plume. 

His  eies  be  like  to  doues' 

On  riuers'  banks  below, 
Ywasht  with  milk,  whose  collours  are 

Most  gallant  to  the  shew. 
His  cheeks  like  to  a  plot 

Where  spice  and  flowers  growe  ; 
His  lips  like  to  the  lilly  white, 

From  whence  pure  myrrh  doth  flow. 
His  hands  like  rings  of  gold 

With  costly  chrisalet; 
His  belly  like  the  yuory  white, 

With  seemly  saphyrs  set. 

His  legs  like  pillers  strong 

Of  marble  set  in  gold; 
His  countenance  like  Libanon, 

Or  cedars,  to  behold. 
His  mouth  it  is  as  sweet, 

Yea,  sweet  as  sweet  may  be : 
This  is  my  loue,  ye  virgins,  loe ! 

Euen  such  a  one  is  he! 

Thou  fairest  of  vs  all, 

Whether  is  thy  louer  gone? 

Tell  us,  and  we  will  goe  with  thee; 
Thou  shalt  not  goe  alone. 



The  Second  Chap,  of  the  Firste  Booke  of  Samuel. 
MY  heart  doth  in  the  Lord  reioice; 
That  liuing  Lord  of  might, 


Which  doth  his  seruant's  horn  exalt 
In  al  his  people's  sight. 

I  wil  reioice  in  their  despight 
Which  erst  haue  me  abhord, 

Because  that  my  saluation 
Dependeth  on  the  Lord. 

None  is  so  holie  as  the  Lord; 

Besides  thee  none  there  are ; 
With  our  God  there  is  no  God 

That  may  himselfe  compare. 
See  that  no  more  presumptuously 

Ye  neither  boast  nor  vaunt, 
Nor  yet  vnseemly  speak  such  things 

So  proud  and  arrogant. 
For  why  ?  the  counsell  of  the  Lord 

In  depth  cannot  be  sought: 
Our  enterprises  and  our  actes 

By  him  to  passe  are  brought. 
The  bowe  is  broke,  the  mightie  ones 

Subuerted  are  at  length, 
And  they  which  weak  and  feeble  were 

Increased  are  in  strength. 

They  that  were  ful  and  had  great  store, 

With  labor  buy  their  bread  ; 
And  they  which  hungrie  were  and  poore, 

With  plentie  now  are  fed : 
So  that  the  wombe  which  barren  was 

Hath  many  children  born, 
And  she  which  store  of  children  had 

Is  left  now  all  forlorne. 
The  Lord  doth  kill  and  make  aliue, 

His  Judgments  all  are  iust  ; 
He  throweth  downe  into  the  graue, 

And  raiseth  from  the  dust. 

THE    SONG    OF    ANNAH.  121 

The  Lord  cloth  make  both  rich  and  poore  ; 

He  al  our  thoughts  doth  trie; 
He  bringeth  low,  and  eke  again  e 

Exalteth  vp  on  hie. 

He  raiseth  vp  the  simple  soule 
Whom  men  pursude  with  hate, 

To  sit  amongst  the  mightie  ones 
In  chaire  of  princely  state. 

For  why  ?  the  pi  Hers  of  the  earth 

He  placed  with  his  hand, 
Whose  mighty  strength  doth  stil  support 

The  waight  of  al  the  land. 

He  wil  preserue  his  saints ;  likewise 

The  wicked  men  at  length 
He  wil  confound:   let  no  man  seem 

To  glory  in  his  strength. 

The  enemies  of  God  the  Lord 

Shall  be  destroied  al; 
From  heauen  he  shal  thunder  send, 

That  on  their  heads  shal  fall. 

The  mightie  Lord  shall  iudge  the  world, 

And  giue  his  power  alone 
Vnto  the  king;  and  shal  exalt 

His  owne  annointed  one. 



In  the  fift  Chap,  of  his  Lamentations. 

CAL  vnto  mind,  Oh  mightie  Lord, 
The  wrongs  we  daily  take; 

Consider  and  behold  the  same 
For  thy  great  mercies'  sake. 


Our  lands  and  our  inheritance 

Meere  strangers  do  possesse ; 
The  alients  in  our  houses  dwel, 

And  we  without  redresse. 
We  now,  alas !  are  fatherlesse, 

And  stil  pursude  with  hate  ; 
Our  mourning  mothers  now  remaine 

In  wofiill  widdovves'  state. 
We  buy  the  water  which  we  drink, 

Such  is  our  grievous  want: 
Likewise  the  wood  euen  for  our  vse 

That  we  ourselues  did  plant. 
Our  neckes  are  subiect  to  the  yoke 

Of  persecution's  thrall; 
We,  wearied  out  with  cruell  toile, 

Can  find  no  rest  at  all. 

Afore  time  we  in  Egypt  land 

And  in  Assyria  serued, 
For  food  our  hunger  to  sustaine, 

Least  that  we  should  haue  sterued. 

Our  fathers  which  are  dead  and  gone 

Haue  sinned  wondrous  sore; 
And  we  now  scour g'd  for  their  offence — 

Ah !  woe  are  we  therefore. 
Those  seruile  slaues  which  bondmen  be, 

Of  them  in  fear  we  stand: 
Yet  no  man  doth  deliuer  vs 

PYom  cruel  caitiues'  hand. 
Our  liuings  we  are  forced  to  get 

In  perils  of  our  Hues ; 
The  drie  and  barren  wildernesse 

Therto  by  danger  driues. 
Our  skins  be  scorcht,  as  though  they  had 

Bin  in  an  ouen  dride, 


With  famine  and  the  penury 

Which  here  we  doo  abide. 
Our  wiues  and  maides  defloured  are 

By  violence  and  force, 
On  Sion  and  in  luda  land, 

Sans  pity  or  remorce. 

Our  kings  by  cruel  enimies 

With  cordes  are  hanged  vp ; 
Our  grauest,  sage,  and  ancient  men, 

Haue  tasted  of  that  cup. 

Our  yoong  men  they  haue  put  to  sword, 

Not  one  at  al  they  spare : 
Our  litle  boyes  vpon  the  tree 

Sans  pitie  hanged  are. 
Our  elders  sitting  in  the  gates 

Can  now  no  more  be  found; 
Our  youth  leaue  off  to  take  delight 

In  musick's  sacred  sound. 
The  ioy  and  comfort  of  our  heart 

Away  is  fled  and  gone ; 
Our  solace  is  with  sorrow  mixt, 

Our  mirth  is  turn'd  to  mone. 
Our  glory  now  is  laid  full  low, 

And  buried  in  the  ground ; 
Our  sins  full  sore  do  burthen  vs, 

Whose  greatnes  doth  abound. 
Oh,  holy  blessed  Sion  hill, 

My  heart  is  woe  for  thee: 
Mine  eies  poure  foorth  a  flood  of  teares 

This  dismal  day  to  see  : 
Which  art  destroied,  and  now  lieth  wast 

From  sacred  vse  and  trade ; 
Thy  holie  place  is  now  a  den 

Of  filthy  foxes  made. 


But  thou,  the  euerliuing  Lord, 
Which  doost  remaine  for  aye, 

Whose  seat  aboue  the  firmament 
Full  sure  and  still  doth  stay, — 

Wherefore  dost  thou  forsake  thine  own  ? 

Shall  we  forgotten  be  ? 
Turn  vs,  good  Lord,  and  so  we  shall 

Be  turned  vnto  thee. 

Lord,  call  vs  home  from  our  exile 

To  place  of  our  abode ; 
Thou  long  inough  hast  punisht  vs 

Oh  Lord,  now  spare  thy  rod. 



The  XV.  Chap,  of  Exodus. 

I  WILL  sing  praise  vnto  the  Lord  for  aie, 
Who  hath  triumphed  gloriously  alone  ; 
The  horse  and  rider  he  hath  ouerthrowen 
And  swallowed  vp,  euen  in  the  raging  sea. 

He  is  my  strength;  he  is  my  song  of  praise; 

He  is  the  God  of  my  saluation : 

A  temple  will  I  build  to  him  alone — 

I  will  exalt  my  fathers'  God  alwaies. 

The  Lord  lehouah  is  a  man  of  warre: 
Pharoe,  his  chariots,  and  his  mightie  hoste 
Were  by  his  hand  in  the  wilde  waters  lost, 
His  captaines  drowned  in  Red  Sea  so  farre. 

Into  the  bottom  there  they  sanke  like  stones, 
The  mightie  depthes  our  enemies  deuour : 
Thy  owne  right  hand  is  gloorious  in  thy  power, 
Thy  owne  right  hand  hath  bruised  all  their  bones. 

A    SONG    OF    MOSES.  125 

And  in  thy  glorie  thou  subuerted  hast 

The  rebels  rising  to  resist  thy  power; 

Thou  sentst  thy  wrath,  which  shall  them  all  deuour, 

Euen  as  the  fire  doth  the  stubble  wast. 

And  with  a  blast  out  of  thy  nostrilles 
The  flowing  flood  stood  still  as  any  stone; 
The  waters  were  congealed  all  in  one, 
And  firme  and  sure  as  any  rockes  or  hilles. 

The  furious  foe  so  vainly  vaunteth  stil, 
And  voweth  to  pursue  with  endlesse  toile, 
And  not  return  till  he  haue  got  the  spoile; 
With  fire  and  sword  they  wil  destroy  and  kill. 

Thou  sentst  the  wind  which  ouerwhelm'd  them  all, 
The  surging  seas  came  sousing  in  againe : 
As  in  the  water,  so  with  might  and  maine, 
Like  lead,  vnto  the  bottome  downe  they  fall. 

Oh,  mightie  Lord,  who  may  with  thee  compare? 
Amongst  the  gods  I  find  none  like  to  thee, 
Whose  glorie's  in  holines,  whose  feares  in  praises 

Whose  chiefe  delights  in  working  woonders  are. 

Thou  stretchest  out  thy  right  and  holy  arme, 
And  presently  the  earth  did  them  deuour; 
And  thou  wilt  bring  vs  by  thy  mightie  power, 
As  thou  hast  promist,  without  further  harme. 

And  for  thy  people,  Lord,  thou  shalt  prouide 
A  place  and  seat  of  quietnesse  and  rest : 
The  nations  all  with  feare  shall  be  opprest, 
And  Palestina  quake  for  all  her  pride. 

The  dukes  of  Edom  shal  hang  downe  the  head  ; 
The  Moabites  shall  tremble  then  for  feare ; 
The  Cananites  in  presence  shall  appeare 
Like  vnto  men  whose  fainting  heartes  were  dead. 


And  feare  and  dread  shall  fall  on  them,  alas! 
Because  thou  helpest  with  thy  mightie  hand; 
So  stil  as  stones  amazed  they  shal  stand, 
Oh  mightie  Lord,  while  thine  elect  doo  passe. 
And  thou  shalt  bring  thy  chosen  and  elect 
Unto  the  mount  of  thine  inheritance, 
A  place  prepared  thy  people  to  aduance : 
A  sanctuary  there  thou  shalt  erect ; 
Which  thou,  O  Lord,  establish'd  hast  therefore, 
And  there  thy  name  shal  raigne  for  euermore. 


In  the  XIL  Chap,  of  the  prophesie  of  Isaiah. 

OH  liuing  Lord,  I  still  will  laude  thy  name  ! 

For  though  thou  wert  offended  once  with  mee, 
Thy  heauy  wrath  is  turn'd  from  me  againe, 

And  graciously  thou  now  doost  comfort  mee. 
Behold,  the  Lord  is  my  saluation, 

I  trust  in  him,  and  feare  not  any  power: 
He  is  my  song,  the  strength  I  lean  vpon  ; 

The  Lord  God  is  my  louing  Sauiour. 
Wherefore  with  ioy  out  of  the  well  of  life 

Draw  foorth  sweet  water  which  it  dooth  affoord : 
And  in  the  day  of  trouble  and  of  strife 

Cal  on  the  name  of  God  the  liuing  Lord. 
Extol  his  works  and  woonders  to  the  sunne, 

Unto  al  people  let  his  praise  be  showne; 
Record  in  song  the  meruails  he  hath  done, 

And  let  his  glorie  through  the  world  be  blowne. 

Crie  out  aloud  and  shout  on  Sion  hill ; 

I  giue  thee  charge  that  this  proclaimed  be, — 
The  great  and  mightie  King  of  Israeli 

Now  only  dwelleth  in  the  midst  of  thee. 

A    SONG    OF    THE    FAITHFUL.  127 


In  the  third  Chap,  of  ttie  prophesie  of  Habacucke. 

LORD,    at  thy   voice    my   heart    for  feare   hath 

trembled ; 

Vnto  the  world,  Lord,  let  thy  workes  be  showen  : 
In  these  our  dales  now  let  thy  power  be  knowen, 
And  yet  in  wrath  let  mercie  he  remerabred. 

From  Teman,  loe,  our  God  you  may  behold, 
The  Holie  One  from  Paran  mount  so  hie ; 
His  glorie  hath  cleane  couered  the  skie, 
And  in  the  earth  his  praises  be  inrolde. 

His  shining  was  more  clearer  than  the  light,, 
And  from  his  hands  a  fulnesse  did  proceed, 
Which  did  contain  his  wrath  and  power  indeed : 
Consuming  plagues  and  fire  were  in  his  sight. 

He  stood  aloft  and  compassed  the  land, 
And  of  the  nations  doth  defusion  make  ; 
The  mountaines  rent,  the  hilles  for  feare  did 

quake, — 
His  vnknown  pathes  no  man  may  vnderstand. 

The  Morians'  tentes  euen  for  their  wickednes 
I  might  behold,  the  land  of  Midian 
Amaz'd  and  trembling,  like  vnto  a  man 
Forsaken  quite,  and  left  in  great  distresse. 

What,  did  the  riuers  moue  the  Lord  to  ire  ? 
Or  did  the  floods  his  Maiesty  displease  ? 
Or  was  the  Lord  offended  with  the  seas, 
That  thou  earnest  forth  in  chariot  hot  as  fire  ? 

Thy  force  and  power  thou  freely  didst  relate  ; 
Vnto  the  tribes  thy  oath  doth  surely  stand ; 
And  by  thy  strength  thou  didst  diuide  the  land, 
And  from  the  earth  the  riuers  separate. 


The  mountaines  saw  and  trembled  for  feare, 
The  sturdy  streame  with  speed  foorth  passed  by ; 
The  mighty  depthes  shout  out  a  hideous  crie, 
And  then  aloft  their  wanes  they  did  vpreare. 
The  sun  and  moon  amid  their  course  stood  still, 
The  speares  and  arrovves  forth  with  shining  went; 
Thou  spoilest  the  land,  being  to  anger  bent, 
And  in  displeasure  thou  didst  slay  and  kill. 

Thou    wentest    foorth   for   thine    owne  chosen's 


For  the  sauegard  of  thine  annointed  one ; 
The  house  of  wicked  men  is  ouerthrowne, 
And  their  foundations  now  goe  all  to  wracke. 

Their  townes  thou  strikest  by  thy  mightie  power 
With  their  own  weapons,  made  for  their  defence, 
Who  like  a  whyrlwind  came  with  the  pretence 
The  poore  and  simple  man  quite  to  deuoure. 

Thou  madest  thy  horse  on  seas  to  gallop  fast ; 
Vpon  the  waues  thou  ridest  here  and  there : 
My  intrals  trembled  then  for  verie  feare, 
And  at  thy  voice  my  lips  shooke  at  the  last. 
Griefe  pierc'd  my  bones,  and  feare  did  me  annoy, 
In  time  of  trouble  where  I  might  find  rest : 
For  to  reuenge  when  once  the  Lord  is  prest. 
With  plagues  he  wil  the  people  quite  destroy. 
The  fig-tree  now  no  more  shall  sprout  nor  flou 
rish  ; 

The  pleasant  vine  no  more  with  grapes  abound ; 
No  pleasure  in  the  citie  shall  be  found, 
The  field  no  more  her  fruit  shal  feed  nor  nourish. 
The  sheep  shall  now  be  taken  from  the  fold ; 
In  stall  of  bullocks  there  shall  be  no  choice  : 
Yet  in  the  Lord  my  Sauiour  I  reioice  ; 
My  hope  in  God  yet  wil  I  surely  hold. 

A    SONG    OF    THE    FAITHUL.  129 

God  is  my  strength,  the  Lord  my  only  stay ; 
My  feet  for  swiftnesse  it  is  he  will  make 
Like  to  the  hind's,  who  none  in  course  can  take : 
Vpon  high  places  he  will  make  me  way. 


In  the  Second  Chap,  of  lottuh. 

IN  griefe  and  anguish  of  my  heart 

My  voice  I  did  extend 
Unto  the  Lord,  and  lie  thereto 

A  willing  eare  did  lend. 

Euen  from  the  deep  and  darkest  pit, 

And  the  in  fern  all  lake, 
To  me  he  hath  bow'd  down  his  eare, 

For  his  great  mercies'  sake. 
For  thou  into  the  middest 

Of  surging  seas  so  deepe 
Hast  cast  me  foorth,  whose  bottom  is 

So  low  and  woondrous  steep: 
Whose  mighty  wallowing  waues, 

Which  from  the  floods  do  flow, 
Haue  with  their  power  vp  swallowed  me, 

And  ouerwhelm'd  me  tho. 

Then  said  I, — Loe  I   am  exilde 

From  presence  of  thy  face  ! 
Yet  wil  I  once  againe  behold 

Thy  house  and  dwelling-place. 
The  waters  haue  encompast  me, 

The  floods  inclosde  me  round, 
The  weeds  haue  sore  encombred  me, 

Which  in  the  seas  abound. 

[l.LIZ.  POETS.] 


Vnto  the  valeyes  down  I  went, 

Beneath  the  hils  which  stand; 
The  earth  hath  there  enuiron'd  me 

With  force  of  al  the  land. 
Yet  hast  thou  stil  preserued  me 

From  all  these  dangers  here, 
And  brought  my  life  out  of  the  pit, 

Oh  Lord,  my  God  so  deare. 
My  soule  consuming  thus  with  care, 

I  praied  vnto  the  Lord ; 
And  he  from  out  his  holie  place 

Heard  me  with  one  accord. 
Who  to  vain  lieng  vanities 

Doth  whollie  him  betake 
Doth  erre ;  also  God's  mercie  he 

Doth  vtterly  forsake. 
But  I  wil  offer  vnto  him 

The  sacrifice  of  praise; 
And  pay  my  vowes,  ascribing  thanks 

Vnto  the  Lord  alwaies. 


Now  Pharaoh's  daughter  Termuth  young  and  faire, 
With  such  choyce  maydens  as  she  fauor'd  most, 
Needes  would  abroad  to  take  the  gentle  ayre, 
Whilst  the  rich  yeere  his  braueries  seem'd  to  boast. 
Softly  she  walkes  downe  to  the  sacred  flood, 
Through  the  calme  shades  most  peaceable  and  quiet, 
In  the  cool  streames  to  check  the  pampred  blood, 
Stird  with  strong  youth  and  their  delicious  diet. 
Such  as  the  princesse,  such  the  day  addressed, 
As  though  prouided  equally  to  paire  her, 
Either  in  other  fortunately  blessed, 
She  by  the  day,  the  day  by  her  made  fairer ; 

THE    FINDING    OF    MOSES.  131 

Both  in  the  height  and  fulnesse  of  their  pleasure, 
As  to  them  both  some  future  good  diuining, 
Holding  a  steadie  and  accomplish'd  measure; 
This  in  her  perfect  clearnesse,  that  in  shining. 
The  very  ayre,  to  emulate  her  meekenesse, 
Stroue  to  be  bright  and  peaceable  as  she, 
That  it  grew  iealous  of  that  sodaine  sleekenesse, 
Fearing  it  ofter  otherwise  might  be. 
And  if  the  fleet  winde  by  some  rigorous  gale 
Seem'd  to  be  mou'd,  and  patiently  to  chide  her, 
It  was  as  angry  with  her  lawnie  vaile, 
That  from  his  sight  it  enuiously  should  hide  her. 
And  now  approching  to  the  flowrie  meade, 
Where  the  rich  summer  curiously  had  dight  her, 
(See  this  most  blessed,  this  vnusual  hap,) 
Which  seem'd  in  all  her  iollitie  arayde, 
With  nature's  cost  and  pleasures  to  delight  her, 
She  the  small  basket  sooner  should  espie, 
That  the  child  wak'd,  and  missing  of  his  pap, 
As  for  her  succour,  instantly  did  cry. 
Forth  of  the  flagges  she  caus'd  it  to  be  taken, 
Calling  her  maids  this  orphanet  to  see : 
Much  did  she  ioy  an  innocent  forsaken 
By  her  from  peril  priuiledgd  might  be. 
This  sweet  princesse,  most  pittifull  and  milde, 
Soone  on  her  knee  vnswathes  it  as  her  owne, 
Found  for  a  man  so  beautifull  a  childe, 
Might  for  an  Hebrew  easily  be  knowne: 
Noting  the  care  in  dressing  it  bestow'd, 
Each  thing  that  fitted  gentlenesse  to  weare, 
ludg'd  the  sad  parents  this  lost  infant  ow'd 
Were  as  invulgar  as  their  fruit  was  faire. 
Saith  she,  "  My  minde  not  any  way  suggests 
An  vnchaste  wombe  these  lineaments  hath  bred  ; 
For  thy  faire  brow  apparently  contests 
The  currant  stamp  of  a  cleane  nuptial  bed." 


She  named  it  Moyses,  which  in  time  might  tell 
(For  names  doe  many  mysteries  expound) 
When  it  was  young  the  chance  that  it  befell, 
How  by  the  water  strangely  it  was  found. 


THOSE  which  at  home  scorn'd  Pharaoh  and  his 


And  whose  departure  he  did  humbly  pray, 
He  now  pursues  with  his  Egyptian  horse 
And  warlike  foote,  to  spoile  them  on  the  way. 
Where  his  choice  people  strongly  to  protect, 
The  only  God  of  emperie  and  of  might, 
Before  his  host  his  standard  doth  erect, 
A  glorious  pillar  in  a  field  of  light; 
Which  he  by  day  in  sable  doth  vnfolde, 
To  dare  the  sunne  his  ardour  to  forbeare, 
By  night  conuerts  it  into  naming  golde, 
Away  the  coldnesse  of  the  same  to  feare. 
Not  by  Philistia  he  his  force  will  leade, 
Though  the  farre  nearer  and  the  happier  way  : 
His  men  of  warre  a  glorious  march  shall  tread 
On  the  vast  bowels  of  the  bloudie  sea ; 
And  sends  the  windes  as  currers  forth  before 
To  make  them  way  from  Pharaoh's  power  to  the, 
And  to  conuey  them  to  a  safer  shore. 
Such  is  his  might  that  can  make  oceans  drie, 
Which  by  the  stroke  of  that  commanding  wand 
Shouldred  the  rough  seas  forcibly  together, 
Raised  as  rampiers  by  that  glorious  hand, 
(Twixt  which  they  march,)  that  did  conduct  them 


The  surly  waues  their  Ruler's  will  obay'd, 
By  him  made  vp  in  this  confused  masse, 
Like  as  an  ambush  secretly  were  laid, 

PASSAGE    OF    THE    RED    SEA.  133 

To  set  on  Pharaoh  as  his  power  should  passe, 
Which  soone  with  wombes  insatiably  wide, 
Loos'd  from  their  late  bounds  by  the  Almightie's 


Come  raging  in,  enclosing  euery  side, 
And  the  Egyptians  instantly  deuour. 
The  sling,  the  stiffe  bowe,  and  the  sharpned  launce, 
Floating  confusdly  on  the  waters  rude, 
They  which  these  weapons  lately  did  aduance, 
Perish  in  sight  of  them  that  they  pursude  : 
Clashing  of  armours  and  the  rumorous  sound 
Of  the  sterne  billowes  in  contention  stood, 
Which  to  the  shores  doe  euery  way  rebound, 
As  doth  affright  the  monsters  of  the  flood. 
Death  is  discern'd  triumphantly  in  armes, 
On  the  rough  seas  his  slaughterie  to  keepe, 
And  his  colde  selfe  in  breath  of  mortals  warmes 
Vpon  the  dimpled  bosome  of  the  deepe. 
There  might  you  see  a  checkquer'd  ensigne  swim 
About  the  bodie  of  the  enui'd  dead, 
Serue  for  a  hearse  or  couerture  to  him 
Ere  while  did  waft  it  proudly  'bout  his  head : 
The  warlike  chariot  turn'd  vpon  the  backe, 
With  the  dead  horses  in  their  traces  tide, 
Drags  their    fat    carkasse    through    the    foamie 


That  drew  it  late  vndauntedly  in  pride. 
There  floats  the  bar'd  steed  with  his  rider  drown'd, 
Whose  foot  in  his  caparison  is  cast, 
Who    late    with    sharpe    spurs    did  his  courser 


Himselfe  now  ridden  with  his  strangled  beast. 
The  waters  conquer  (without  helpe  of  hand) 
For  them  to  take,  for  which  they  neuer  toile, 
And  like  a  quarrie  cast  them  on  the  land, 
As  those  they  slew  they  left  to  them  to  spoile. 


In  eightie-eight1  at  Douer  that  had  beene 
To  view  that  nauie  (like  a  mighty  wood) 
Whose  sailes  swept  heauen,  might  eas'lie  there 

haue  scene 

How  puissant  Pharaoh  perish'd  in  the  floud. 
What  for  a  conquest  strictly  they  did  keepe, 
Into  the  channel  presently  was  pour'd  ; 
Castilian  riches  scattered  on  the  deepe, 
That  Spaine's  long  hopes  had  sodainly  deuour'd. 
Th'  afflicted  English  rang'd  along  the  strand, 
To  waite  what  would  this  threatening  power  betide, 
Now  when  the  Lord  with  a  victorious  hand 
In  his  high  iustice  scourg'd  the  Iberian  pride. 


Now  when  to  Sina  they  approched  neare, 
God  calls  vp  Moyses  to  the  mount  aboue, 
And  all  the  rest  commaundeth  to  forbeare, 
Nor  from  the  bounds  assign'd  them  to  remoue. 
For  who  those  limits  loosely  did  exceede, 
Which  were  by  Moyses  mark'd  them  out  beneath, 
The  Lord  had  irreuocably  decreed 
With  darts  or  stones  should  surely  die  the  death: 
Where  as  the  people  in  a  wondrous  fright, 
(With  hearts  transfixed  euen  with  frosen  blood) 
Beheld  their  leader  openly  in  sight 
Passe  to  the  Lord,  where  he  in  glory  stood. 
Thunder  and  lightning  led  him  down  the  ayre, 
Trumpets  celestial  sounding  as  he  came, 
Which  struck  the  people  with  astounding  feare, 
Himselfe  inuested  in  a  splendorous  flame. 
Sina  before  him  fearfully  did  shake, 


THE    LAW    GIVEN    ON    SINAI.  135 

Couer'd  all  ouer  in  a  smouldering  smoake, 

As  ready  the  foundation  to  forsake, 

On  the  dread  presence  of  the  Lord  to  looke. 

Erect  your  spirits,  and  lend  attentiue  ear, 

To  marke  at  Sina  what  to  you  is  said. 

Weake  Moyses  now  you  shall  not  simply  heare, 

The  son  of  Amram  and  of  lacobed ; 

But  He  that  Adam  did  imparadise, 

And  lent  him  comfort  in  his  proper  blood, 

And  saued  Noah,  that  did  the  arke  deuise, 

When  the  old  world  else  perish'd  in  the  flood ; 

To  righteous  Abraham  Canaan  franckly  lent, 

And  brought  forth  Isaac  so  extreamly  late, 

Jacob  so  faire  and  many  children  sent, 

And  rais'd  chast  Joseph  to  so  high  estate ; 

He  whose  iust  hand  plagu'd  Egypt  for  your  sake, 

That  Pharaoh's  power  so  scornef'ully  did  mock. 

Way  for  his  people  through  the  sea  did  make, 

Gaue  food  from  Heauen  and  water  from  the  rock. 

Whilst  Moyses  now  in  this  cloud-couered  hill 

Full  forty  dayes  his  pure  aboade  did  make, 

Whilst  that  great  God,  in  his  almighty  will, 

With  him  of  all  his  ordinances  spake : 

The  decalogue  from  which  religion  tooke 

The  being ;  sinne  and  righteousnesse  began 

The  different  knowledge,  and  the  certaine  booke 

Of  testimony  betwixt  God  and  man: 

The  ceremoniall  as  judicious  lawes, 

From  his  high  wisdome  that  receiu'd  their  ground, 

Not  to  be  altred  in  the  smallest  clause, 

But,  as  their  Maker,  wondrously  profound. 

The  composition  of  that  sacred  phane, 

Which  as  a  symbol  curiously  did  shew, 

What  all  his  six  daye's  workmanship  containe, 

Whose  perfect  modell  his  owne  finger  drew. 




THE  Lord !  he  is  my  saving  light, 

Whom  should  I  therefore  feare ? 
He  makes  my  foes  to  fall,  whose  teeth 

Would  me  in  sunder  teare. 
Though  hostes  of  men  besiege  my  soule, 

My  heart  shall  neuer  dread  ; 
So  that  within  his  court  and  sight, 

My  life  may  still  be  led. 
For  in  his  Church  from  trouble  free 

He  shall  me  keepe  in  holde  ; 
In  spight  of  foes,  his  wrondrous  prayse 

My  song  shall  still  unfold. 
Have  mercie,  Lord,  therefore,  on  me, 

And  heare  me  when  I  cry; 
Thou  bidst  me  looke  with  hope  on  thee ; 

For  help  to  thee  I  fly. 
In  wrath  therefore  hide  not  thy  face. 

But  be  thou  still  my  aide; 
Though  parents  fayle  thou  wilt  assist — 

Thy  promise  so  hath  said. 
Teach  me  thy  truth,  and  thy  right  path, 

Least  that  the  enemy 
Prevaile  against  my  life ;  whose  tongues 

Entrap  me  treacherously. 
My  heart  would  fainte  for  feare,  unless 

My  faith  did  build  on  thee; 
My  hope's  my  God,  and  comfort's  strength, 

Who  will  deliver  me. 

PSALM    CXXI.  137 


VNTO  the  hils  I  lift  my  eyes, 

Fqpm  whence  my  helpe  shall  grow; 
Euen  to  the  Lord  which  fram'd  the  heauens, 

And  made  the  deeps  below. 
He  will  not  let  my  feete  to  slip; 

My  watchman  neither  sleepes: 
Behold  the  Lord  of  Israeli  still 

His  flocke  in  safety  keepes. 
The  Lord  is  my  defence;  he  doth 

About  me  shadow  cast; 
By  day  nor  night  the  sunne  nor  moone 

My  limbs  shall  burne  or  blast. 
He  shall  preserue  me  from  all  ill, 

And  me  from  sinne  protect; 
My  going  in,  and  comming  forth, 

He  euer  shall  direct. 


OUR  Father  which  in  heauen  art, 
Lorde !  hallowed  be  thy  name : 

Thy  kingdome  come,  thy  will  be  done, 
In  heauen  and  earth  the  same. 

Giue  us  this  day  our  daily  bread; 

Our  trespasses  forgiue, 
As  we  for  other  men's  offence 

Doe  freely  pardon  giue. 
Into  temptation  leade  us  not, 

But  'liuer  us  from  ill; 
For  thine  all  kingdome,  glory,  powre, 

Is  now,  and  euer  will. 

138  HENRY    LOK. 


Who  loueth  gold  shall  lacke,  and  he 

Who  couets  much  want  store : 
With  wealth  charge  growes;  the  owner  but 

Increaseth  paine  the  more. 

WHAT  though  the  world,  through  baleful  lust  of 


Be  thus  transported  with  a  greedy  mind, 
To  purchase  wealth,  which  makes  the  coward  bold 
To  search  land,  sea,  and  hell,  the  same  to  find  ? 
Yet  as  it  doth  increase,  so  doth  desire, 
And  soone  consume  as  oyle  amidst  the  fire. 

A  iust  reward  of  so  vnworthy  trade 

As  doth  debase  nobilitie  of  soule, 

Which,  made  immortal,  scornes  those  things  that 

And  in  the  wise  should  earthly  effects  controule. 

But  mould-warp  like,  these  blindfold  grope  in 
vaine : 

Vaine  their  desires ;  more  vaine  the  fruit  they 


If  honor,  wealth,  and  calling  do  excell 
The  common  sort,  so  charge  doth  grow  with  all  : 
Few  with  a  little  sure  may  Hue  as  well, 
As  many  may,  though  greater  wealth  befall : 

It  is  not  wealth  to  haue  of  goods  great  store, 

But  wealth  to  be  suffised,  and  need  no  more. 
Who  hath  aboundance  and  it  vseth  well, 
Is  but  a  steward  to  his  family ; 
A  purse-bearer  for  such  as  neare  him  dwell; 
An  amner  to  the  poore  that  helpless  cry  : 

He  but  his  share  doth  spend,  though  somewhat 

And  what  he  leaues  he  is  to  world  a  detter. 

MISERABLE    STATE    OF    THE    WICKED.       139 


Who  feares  not  God  shall  not  escape, 

His  dales  as  shadows  pas; 
Though  wicked  men  triumph  sometimes. 

And  iust  men  waile,  alas! 

WHEN  as  contrariwise  the  wicked  one 
Shall  be  dismounted  from  liis  seat  of  trust, 
Dismayd  and  desolate,  forlorne,  alone, 
Pursued  by  heauen  and  earth,  by  Judgment  iust, 
Of  God  and  man  forsaken  and  contemnd, 
As  be  the  innocent  before  condemnd : 

The  pompe  and  glory  of  his  passed  pride 
Like  to  a  flower  shall  vanish  and  decay ; 
His  life  like  ruines  downe  shall  headlong  slide, 
His  fame  like  to  a  shadow  vade  away. 
Because  he  feared  not  the  God  of  might, 
In  Justice  shall  these  woes  vpon  him  light. 

And  yet  in  truth  it  is  a  wondrous  case 
To  see  the  iust  so  many  woes  sustaine : 
Not  that  I  thinke  that  pitie  can  haue  place 
With  wicked  ones  to  make  them  wrong  refraine ; 
But  that  the  God  of  iustice  doth  permit 
His  seruants  to  be  subiect  vnto  it. 

For  you  shall  lightly  see  the  better  man 
The  more  afflicted  in  his  worldly  state; 
The  vilest  person,  worst,  that  find  you  can, 
Most  wealthy  and  loued  most,  though  worthy  hate : 
But  it  is  vaine  to  search  God's  mind  herein — 
Thereof  to  descant  I  will  not  begin. 

140  HENRY    LOK. 



MY  wicked  flesh,  0  Lord,  with  sin  full  fraight, 
Whose  eye  doth  lust  for  euerie  earthly  thing, 
By  couetise  allurde,  hath  bit  the  baight 
That  me  to  Satan's  seruitude  will  bring. 
By  violence  I  vertue's  right  would  wring 
Out  of  possession  of  the  soule  so  weake, 
Like  vineyard  which  the  wicked  Achab  king 
Possest  by  tirant's  power,  which  lawes  do  breake. 
Let  prophets  thine,  Lord,  to  my  soule  so  speake, 
That  in  repentant  sackcloth  1  may  mone 
The  murther  of  thy  grace  which  1  did  wreake, 
Whilst  to  my  natiue  strength  I  trust  alone  : 
And  let  my  Sauiour  so  prolong  my  daies, 
That  henceforth  I   may  turne  from  sinfull 


WHILST  in  the  garden  of  this  earthly  soile 
Myself  to  solace  and  to  bath  I  bend, 
And  fain  would  quench  sin's  heat,  which  seems 

to  boile 

Amidst  my  secret  thoughts,  which  shadow  lend : 
My  sence  and  reasons  which  should  me  defend, 
As  iudges  chosen  to  the  common  weale, 
Allur'd  by  lust,  my  mine  do  pretend 
By  force  of  sin,  which  shamelesse  they  reueale  : 
They  secretly  on  my  affections  steale, 
When  modestie  my  m aides  I  sent  away, 
To  whom  for  helpe  I  thought  I  might  appeale, 
But  grace  yet  strengthens  me  to  say  them  nay: 
Yet  they  accuse  me,  Lord,  and  die  I  shall, 
If  Christ  my  Daniell  be  not  iudge  of  all. 

SONNETS.  141 


A  HUSBANDMAN  within  thy  Church  by  grace 
I  am,  O  Lord,  and  labour  at  the  plough ; 
My  hand  holds  fast,  ne  will  I  turne  my  face 
From  following  thee,  although  the   soile  be 


The  loue  of  world  doth  make  it  seeme  more  tough, 
And  burning  lust  doth  scorch  in  heat  of  day, 
Till  fainting,  faith  would  seeke  delightfull  bough 
To  shade  my  soule  from  danger  of  decay. 
But  yet  in  hope  of  grace  from  thee  I  stay, 

And  do  not  yeeld,  although  my  courage  quaile : 
To  rescue  me  beprest  I  do  thee  pray, 
If  sinfull  death  do  seeke  me  to  assaile. 
Let  me  runne  forth  my  race  vnto  the  end, 
Which  by  thy  helpe,  0  Lord,  I  do  intend. 


So  blinde,  O  Lord,  haue  my  affections  bin, 
And  so  deceitfull  hath  bin  Satan's  slight, 
That  to  giue  credit  I  did  first  begin 
To  pride  and  lust,  as  heauenly  powers  of  might: 

I  offred  all  my  sences  with  delight, 
A  sacrifice  to  feede  those  idols  vaine : 
Of  all  the  presents  proffred  day  and  night, 
Nought  vnconsumde  I  saw  there  did  remaine, 

Till  that  thy  prophets  by  thy  word  made  plaine 
The  falshood  by  the  which  I  was  deceiued  ; 
How  Satan's  kingdome  made  hereof  a  gaine, 
And  wickednesse  my  hope  and  faith  bereaued. 
But  now  the  sifted  ashes  of  thy  word 
Bewraies  Bel's  prists,  slaies  dragon  without 

142  HENRY    LOK. 


Lo,  how  I  groueling  vnder  burden  lie 
Of  sin,  of  shame,  of  feare,  Lord,  of  thy  sight  ; 
My  guilt  so  manifold  dare  not  come  nie 
Thy  throne  of  mercy,  mirror  of  thy  might. 

With  hidden  and  with  ignorant  sinnes  I  fight, 
Dispairing  and  presumptuous  faults  also : 
All  fleshly  frailtie  on  my  backe  doth  light, 
Originall  and  actuall  with  me  go. 

Against  a  streame  of  lusts  my  will  would  roe 
To  gaine  the  shoare  of  grace,  the   port  of 


But  flouds  of  foule  affections  ouerfloe, 
And  sinke  I  must ;  I  see  now  no  release, 
Vnlesse  my  Sauiour  deare  this  burden  take, 
And  faith  a  ship  of  safetie  for  me  make. 


ON  sweete  andsauorie  bread  of  wholesome  kinde, 
Which  in  thy  word  thou  offrest  store  to  me, 
To  feed  vpon  the  flesh  doth  lothing  finde, 
And  leaues  to  leane,  O  Lord,  alone  on  thee : 

The  leauen  of  the  Pharisees  will  bee 

The  surfet  of  my  soule,  and  death  in  fine, 
Which,  coueting  to  tast  forbidden  tree, 
To  earn  all  rules  and  reasons  doth  incline. 

So  lauishly  my  lusts  do  tast  the  wine 

Which  sowrest  grapes  of  sin  filles  in  my  cup, 
That,  lo,  my  teeth  now  set  on  edge  I  pine, 
Not  able  wholesome  food  to  swallow  vp, 

Vnlesse  thou  mend  my  tast,  and  hart  doest 

To  loue  thy  lawes,  and  praise  thy  holy  name. 



Domine,  ne  in  furore.     The  first  Part. 

O  LORD,  when  I  myself  behold, 

How  wicked  I  haue  bin, 
And  view  the  paths  and  waies  I  went, 

Wandring  from  sin  to  sin ; 

Againe  to  thinke  vpon  thy  power, 
Thy  iudgement  and  thy  might ; 

And  how  that  nothing  can  be  hid, 
Or  close  kept  from  thy  sight; 

Euen  then,  alas !  I  shake  and  quake, 

And  tremble  where  I  stand, 
For  feare  thou  shouldst  reuenged  be 

By  power  of  wrathful  hand. 

The  weight  of  sinne  is  verie  great; 

For  this  to  mind  I  call, 
That  one  proud  thought  made  angels  once 

From  heauen  to  slide  and  fall. 

Adam  likewise,  and  Eve  his  wife, 

For  breaking  thy  precept, 
From  Paradise  expelled  were, 

And  death  thereby  hath  crept 

Vpon  them  both,  and  on  their  seede, 

For  euer  to  remaine, 
But  that  by  faith  in  Christ  thy  Sonne 

We  hope  to  Hue  againe. 

144  WILLIAM    HUNN1S. 

The  earth  not  able  was  to  beare, 

But  quicke  did  swallow  in, 
Corah,  Dathan,  and  Abiron, 

By  reason  of  their  sin. 
Also  because  king  David  did 

His  people  number  all, 
Thou,  Lord,  therefore,  in  three  daies'  space, 

Such  grieuous  plague  letst  fall, 
That  seuentie  thousand  men  forthwith 

Thereof  dyde  presentlie ; 
Such  was  thy  worke,  such  was  thy  wrath, 

Thy  mightie  power  to  trie. 
Alas !  my  sins  surmounte<h  theirs, 

Mine  cannot  numbred  bee  ; 
And  from  thy  wrath,  most  mightie  God, 

I  knowe  not  where  to  flee. 
If  into  heauen  I  might  ascend, 
Where  angels  thine  remaine, 
0  Lord,  thy  wrath  would  thrust  me  forth 

Downe  to  the  earth  again e. 
And  in  the  earth  here  is  no  place 

Of  refuge  to  be  found, 
Nor  in  the  deepe,  and  water-course 

That  passeth  vnder  ground. 
Vouchsafe  therefore,  I  thee  beseech, 

On  me  some  mercie  take, 
And  turne  thy  wrath  from  me  awaie, 

For  Jesus  Christe's  sake. 
i  Lord,  in  thy  wrath  reprove  me  not, 

Ne  chast  me  in  thine  ire; 
But  with  thy  mercie  shadowe  me, 
I  humblie  thee  desire. 

1  Verse  1.     Domine,  ne  in  furore  two  argnas  me:  neq'  in 
ira  tua  corripias  me. 

PSALM    VI.  145 

I  know  it  is  my  grieuous  shines 
That  doo  thy  wrath  prouoke : 

But  yet,  O  Lord,  in  rigour  thine 
Forbeare  thy  heauie  stroke ; 

And  rather  with  thy  mercie  sweete 

Behold  my  heauie  plight; 
How  weake  and  feeble  I  appeare 

Before  thy  blessed  sight. 

For  nature  mine  corrupted  is, 

And  wounded  with  the  dart 
Of  lust  and  foule   concupiscence, 

Throughout  in  eu'rie  part. 

I  am  in  sinne  conceiu'd  and  borne, 
The  child  of  wrath  and  death, 

Hauing  but  here  a  little  time 
To  Hue  and  drawe  my  breath. 

I  feele  myselfe  still  apt  and  prone 

To  wickednesse  and  vice, 
And  drowned  thus  in  sinne  I  lie, 

And  haue  no  power  to  rise. 

2  It  is  thy  mercie,    0  sweet   Christ, 

That  must  my  health  restore; 
For  all  my  bones  are  troubled  much, 

And  vexed  verie  sore. 
I  am  not  able  to  withstand 

Temptations  such  as  bee: 
Wherefore,  good  Lord,  vouchsafe  to  heale 

My  great  infirmitie. 

Good  Christ,  as  thou  to  Peter  didst, 
Reach  forth  thy  hand  to  me, 

2  Verse  2.  Miserere  mei,  Domine,  quoniam  infirmus 
sum:  sana  me,  Domine,  quoniam  conturbata  sunt  omnia  ossa 

[ELIZ.  POETS.]  10 


When  he  upon  the  water  went, 

There  drowned  like  to  be. 
And  as  the  leaper  clensed  was. 

By  touching  with  thy  hand; 
And  Peter's  mother  raised  up 
From  feuer  whole  to  stand  : 
So  let  that  hand  of  mercie  thine 

Make  cleane  the  leprosie 
Of  lothsome  lust  vpon  me  growne 

Through  mine  iniquitie. 
Then  shal  there  strength  in  me  appere, 

Through  grace,  my  chiefe  reliefe  ; 
Thy  death,  O  Christ,  the  medicine  is 

that  helpeth  all  my  griefe. 
1  My  soule  is  troubled   verie  sore 

By  reason  of  my  sin  : 
But,  Lord,  how  long  shall  I  abide, 

Thus  sorrowfull  therein? 
I  doubt  not,  Lord,  but  thou,  which  hast 

My   stonie  hart  made  soft, 
With  willing  mind  thy  grace  to  craue 

From  time  to  time  so  oft, 
Wilt  not  now  stay,  but  forth  proceed 

My  perfect  health  to  make : 
Although  awhile  thou  doost  deferre, 

Yet  is  it  for  my  sake. 
For,  Lord,  thou  knowst  our  nature  such, 

If  we  great  things  obtaine, 

And  in  the  getting  of  the  same 

Do  feel  no  griefe  or  paine; 

i  Verse  3.      Et  anima  mea  contarbata  est  wide :  sed  tu 

PSALM    VI.  147 

We  little  doo  esteeme  thereof: 

But,  hardly  brought  to  passe, 
A  thousand  times  we  doe  esteeme 

Much  more  then  th'  other  was. 
So,  Lord,  if  thou  shouldst  at  the  first 

Grant  my  petition, 
The  greatnes  of  offenses  mine 

I  should  not  thinke  vpon. 
Wherefore  my  hope  still  bids  me  cry 

With  faithfull  hart  in  brest; 
As  did  the  faithful  Cananite, 

Whose  daughter  was  possest. 
At  least,  if  I  still  knock  and  call 

Vpon  thy  holie  name, 
At  length  thou  wilt  heare  my  request, 

And  grant  to  me  the  same : 
As  did  the  man  three  loaues  of  bread 

Vnto  his  neighbour  lend, 
Whose  knocking  long  forst  him  to  rise, 

And  shew  himselfe  a  frend. 
Lord,  by  the  mouth  of  thy  deare  Son 

This  promise  didst  thou  make, 
That  if  we  knocke,  thou  open  wilt 

The  doore  euen  for  his  sake. 
AVherefore  we  crie,  we  knock,  we  call, 

And  neuer  cease  will  wee, 
Till  thou  doo  turne  to  vs,  0  Lord, 

That  we  may  turne  to  thee. 


Miserere  mei.  The  first  Part. 
0  THOU,  that  madst  the  world  of  nought, 

Whom  God  thy  creatures  call ; 
Which  formedst  man  like  to  thyself, 

Yet  suffredst  him  to  fall: 

10— 2~~ 


>     Thou  God,  winch  by  thy  heauenlie  word 

Didst  fleshe  of  virgin  take, 
And  so  becamst  both  God  and  man, 
For  sinful  fleshe's  sake: 

3  0  thou,  that  sawest  when  man  by  sinne 

To  hell  was  ouerthrowne, 
Didst  meeklie  suffer  death  on  crosse, 
To  haue  thy  mercies  knowne  : 

4  Thou  God,  which  didst  the  patriarks 

And  fathers  old  diuine 
From  time  to  time  preserue  and  keepe 
By  mercies  great  of  thine : 

5  O  thou,  that  Noah  kepts  from  floud, 

And  Abram  daie  by  daie, 
As  he  along  through  .Egypt  past, 
Didst  guide  him  in  the  waie : 

6  Thou  God,  that  Lot  from  Sodom's  plague 

Didst  safelie  keepe  also, 
And  Daniel  from  the  lions'  iawes, 
Thy  mercie  great  to  shew: 

7  0  thou  good  God,  that  didst  diuide 

The  sea  like  hils  to  stand, 
That  children  thine  might  thorough  pas 
From  cruell  Pharoe's  hand  ; 

8  So  that  when  Pharoe  and  his  host 

Thy  children  did  pursue, 
Thou  ouerthrewst  them  in  the  sea, 
To  prooue  thy  saiengs  true : 

9  0  thou,  that  lonas  in  the  fish 

Three  daies  didst  keepe  from  paine, 
Which  was  a  figure  of  thy  death 
And  rising  vp  againe: 

PSALM    LI.  149 

10  I  say,  thou  God,  which  didst  preserue 

Amidst  the  fierie  flame 
The  three  young  men  which  sang  therein 
The  glories  of  thy  name :— • 

11  lThou,  God,  haue  mercie  on  my  soule, 

Thy  goodnesse  me  restore, 
And  for  thy  mercies  infinite 
Thinke  on  my  sinne  no  more. 

12  0  Lord,  the  number  of  my  sinnes 

Is  more  than  can  be  told ; 
Wherefore  I  humblie  doo  desire 
Thy  mercies  manifold. 

13  For  small  offense  thy  mercie  small 

May  soone  small  faultes  suffice ; 
But  I,  alas!  for  manie  faults 
For  greater  mercie  cries. 

14  And  though  the  number  of  my  sins 

Surpasseth  salt  sea  land, 
And  that  the  filth  of  them  deserue 
The  wrath  of  thy  iust  hand; 

15  Yet  doo  thy  mercies  farre  surmount 

The  sinnes  of  all  in  all ; 
Thou  wilt  with  mercie  vs  relieue, 
For  mercie  when  we  call. 

16  Right  well  I  knowe  man  hath  not  power 

So  much  for  to  transgresse, 
As  thou  with  mercie  maist  forgiue 
Through  thine  almightinesse. 

17  I  doo  confesse  my  faultes  be  more 

Than  thousands  else  beside, 

1  Verse  1.  Miserere  mei,  Deus,  secundum  magnam  mi- 
sericordiam  tuam  ;  et  secundum  multitudinem  miserationum 
tuarum  dele  iniquitutem  meam. 


More  noisome,  and  more  odious, 
More  fowler  to  be  tride, 

18  Than  euer  was  the  lothsome  swine— 

19  Wherefore,  good  Lord,  doo  not  behold 

How  wicked  I  haue  bin; 
lBut  wash  me  from  my  wickednesse, 
And  dense  me  from  my  sin. 

20  The  Israelites,  being  defil'd, 

Durst  not  approach  thee  nie. 
Till  they  their  garments  and  themselues 
Had  washed  decentlie. 

21  The  priests  also  eke  clensed  were 

Ere  they  thy  face  would  see; 
Else  had  they  perisht  in  their  sinne— 
Such  Lord  was  thy  decree. 

22  Alas!  how  much  more  need  I  then 

To  craue  while  I  am  heere, 
To  wash  my  foule  and  spotted  soule, 
That  it  may  cleane  appeare ! 

23  Polluted  cloths  with  filth  distaind 

Doe  manie  washings  craue, 
Ere  that  the  launder  can  obteine 
The  thing  that  he  would  haue. 

24  My  soule  likewise,  alas!  dooth  need 

The  manie  dewes  of  grace, 
Ere  it  be  cleane ;  for  cankred  sinne 
So  deepe  hath  taken  place. 

25  The  leprosie  that  Naaman  had 

Could  not  be  done  away, 
Till  he  seuen  times  in  Jordan  floud 
Had  washt  him  day  by  day. 

1  Verse  2.    Amplius   lava  mea  ab  iniquitate  mea,  et  a 
peccato  meo  munda  me. 

PSALM    LI.  151 

26  How  manie  waters  need  I  then 

For  to  be  washed  in, 
Ere  I  be  purged  faire  and  cleane, 
And  clensed  from  my  sin ! 

27  But,  Lord,  thy  mercie  is  the  sope, 

And  washing  lee  also, 
That  shall  both  scowre  and  dense  the  filth 
Which  in  my  soule  doe  grow. 

28  Why  should  I  then,  alas!  despaire 

Of  goodness  thine  to  mee, 
When  that  thy  iustice  willeth  me 
To  put  my  trust  in  thee? 

29  Thy  promise,  Lord,  thy  mouth  hath  past, 

Which  cannot  be  but  true, 
That  thou  wilt  mercie  haue  on  them 
That  turne  to  thee  anew. 

30  I  know,  when  heauen  and  earth  shall  passe, 

This  promise  shall  stand  fast : 
Wherefore  vnto  thy  Maiestie 
I  offer  now  at  last 

31  An  hart  contrite  and  sorrowfull 

With  all  humilitie, 
For  heinous  sinnes  by  it  conceiu'd 
Through  mine  iniquitie. 

32  2I  doo  acknowledge  all  my  faultes ; 

My  sinnes  stand  me  before; 
I  haue  them  in  remembrance,  Lord, 
And  will  for  euermore. 

33  Because  thou  shouldst  the  same  forget, 

I  still  doo  thinke  thereon, 
And  set  it  vp  before  my  face, 
Alvvaies  to  look  vpon. 

2  Verse  3.     Quoniam  iniquitatem  meam  ego  cognosco,  et 
peccatum  meum  contra  me  est  semper. 




0  IESU  sweet,  grant  that  thy  grace 
Alwaies  so  worke  in  mee, 

1  may  desire  the  thing  to  doo 
Most  pleasing  vnto  thee. 

O  lesu  meeke,  thy  will  be  mine, 

My  will  be  thine  also; 
And  that  my  will  may  follow  thine 

In  pleasure,  paine,  and  wo  ; 
0  lesu,  what  is  good  for  mee, 

I  say  best  known  to  thee: 
Therefore  according  to  thy  will 

Haue  mercie  now  on  mee. 


0  IESU,  if  thou  do  withdrawe 

Thy  comfort  for  a  time, 
Let  not  despaire  take  hold  on  mee 

For  anie  sinnfull  crime. 
But  giue  me  patience  to  abide 

Thy  pleasure  and  thy  will : 
For  sure  thy  iudgments  all  are  right, 

Though  I  be  wicked  still. 
But  yet  a  promise  hast  thou  made 

To  all  that  trust  in  thee : 
According  to  which  promise,  Lord, 

Haue  mercie  now  on  me. 


0  IESU,  oft  it  greeueth  me, 
And  troubleth  sore  my  mind, 


That  I  so  weake  and  fraile  am  found, 

To  wander  with  the  blind. 
O  lesu  deare,  thou  lasting  light, 

Whose  brightnesse  doth  excell, 
The  clearnes  of  thy  beams  send  downe, 

Within  my  heart  to  dwell. 
O  lesu,  quicken  thou  my  soule, 

That  it  may  cleaue  to  thee, 
And  for  thy  painefull  passion  sake 

Haue  mercie  now  on  me. 


ALACK,  when  I  looke  back 

Vpon  my  youth  that's  past, 
And  deepelie  ponder  youth's  offense, 

And  youth's  reward  at  last ; 
With  sighes  and  sobs  I  saie: — 

O  God,  I  not  denie 
My  youth  with  follie  hath  deseru'd 

With  follie  for  to  die. 
But  yet  if  euer  sinfull  man 

Might  mercie  mooue  to  ruth, 
Good  Lord,  with  mercie  doo  forgiue 

The  follies  of  my  youth. 
In  youth  I  rangde  the  fields, 

Where  vices  all  do  grow; 
In  youth  I  wanted  grace 

Such  vice  to  ouerthrow. 
In  youth  what  I  thought  sweet, 

Most  bitter  now  I  finde : 
Thus  hath  the  follies  of  my  youth 

With  follie  kept  me  blinde. 


Yet  as  the  eagle  casts  hir  bill, 
Whereby  hir  age  renuth; 

So,  Lord,  with  mercie  cloo  forgiue 
The  follies  of  my  youth. 


AWAKE  from  sleepe,  and  watch  awhile, 

Prepare  yourselues  to  praie ; 
For  I  mine  angell  will  send  foorth 

To  sound  the  Judgement  daie  ; 
That  mine  elect  and  chosen  sort 

Might  find  my  saieng  true, 
How  that  the  time  I  shorten  will 

For  them,  and  not  for  you. 

Awake,  I  saie,  awake,  awake. 

And  yet,  O  Lord,  the  little  whelps 

Would  like  the  crums  that  fall: 
Thy  chosen  sort  are  verie  few, 

But  manie  doost  thou  call. 

I  call  to  you  that  will  not  heare, 

I  stretch  mine  armes  at  large, 
For  to  imbrace  such  as  doo  come, 

And  all  your  sinnes  discharge. 
Wherefore  if  you  refuse  to  come 

I  will  you  then  forsake, 
And  to  my  feast  will  strangers  call, 

And  them  my  children  make. 
Awake,  therefore,  and  rise  from  sleepe ; 

Awake,  I  saie,  awake. 

A    DIALOGUE,    &C.  155 


Not  so,  good  Lord,  thy  mercie  far 
Aboue  our  sinnes  abound. 


And  yet  I  will  a  iusticer 
In  iustice  mine  be  found. 


Thy  promise  is  to  pardon  sinne, 
And  therein  art  thou  iust. 


Your  sinnes  repent,  and  praie  therefore  ; 
In  vaine  is  else  your  trust. 


0  Lord,  thy  grace  must  this  performe, 
Or  else  it  cannot  be. 


My  grace  you  haue,  the  same  applie, 
And  blessed  shall  you  be. 


Through  this  sweet  grace  thy  mercie,  Lord, 
We  humblie  doo  require. 


By  mercie  mine  I  you  forgiue, 
And  grant  this  your  desire. 


BEFORE  thy  face,  and  in  thy  sight 
Haue  I,  deuoid  of  shame, 

0  Lord,  transgressed  willinglie ; 
I  doo  confesse  the  same. 


Yet  was  I  loth  that  men  should  knovve, 

Or  vnderstand  my  fall : 
Thus  feard  I  man  much  more  than  thee, 

Thou  righteous  ludge  of  all. 

So  blind  was  I  and  ignorant — 

Yea,  rather  wilfull  blind — 
That  suckt  the  combe,  and  knew  the  bee 

Had  left  hir  sting  behind. 

My  shines,  0  God,  to  thee  are  knovvne, — 

There  is  no  secret  place, 
Where  I  may  hide  myselfe  or  them 

From  presence  of  thy  face. 

Where  shall  I  then  myselfe  bestowe? 

Or  who  shall  me  defend? 
None  is  so  louing  as  my  God — 

Thy  mercies  haue  no  end. 

In  deede,  I  grant,  and  doo  confesse, 

My  sinnes  so  hainous  bee, 
As  mercie  none  at  all  deserues, — 

But  yet  thy  propertie 

Is  alvvaies  to  be  mercifull 

To  sinners  in  distresse; 
Whereby  thou  wilt  declare  and  shew 

Thy  great  Almightinesse. 

Haue  mercie,  Lord,  on  me  therefore 

For  thy  great  mercies'  sake, 
Which  camst  not  righteous  men  to  call, 

But  sinners'  part  to  take. 



GIUE  eare,  0  Lord,  to  heare 

My  heauie  carefull  cries ; 
And  let  my  wofull  plaints  ascend 

Aboue  the  starrie  skies. 
And  now  receiue  the  soule 

That  puts  his  trust  in  thee: 
And  mercie  grant  to  purge  my  sinnes — 

Mercie,  good  Lord,  mercie. 
My  soule  desires  to  drinke 

From  fountaine  of  thy  grace ; 
To  slake  this  thirst,  O  God,  vouchsafe, 

And  turne  not  of  thy  face  : 
But  bow  thy  bending  eare 

With  mercie,  when  I  crie, 
And  pardon  grant  for  sinfull  life — 

Mercie,  good  Lord,  mercie. 

Behold  at  length,  O  Lord, 

My  sore  repentant  mind, 
Which  knocks  with  faith,  and  hopes  thereby 

Thy  mercies  great  to  find. 
Thy  promise  thus  hath  past, 

From  which  I  will  not  flie : 
Who  dooth  repent,  trusting  in  thee, 

Shall  taste  of  thy  mercie. 



LET  vs  be  glad,  and  clap  our  hands, 
With  ioie  our  soules  to  fill; 


For  Christ  hath  paid  the  price  of  sinne, 

With  mercie  and  good  will. 
By  his  good  will  he  flesh  became 

For  sinfull  fleshe's  sake ; 
By  his  good  will  disdained  not 

Most  shamefull  death  to  take. 
By  his  good  will  his  blood  was  spilt, 

His  bodie   ail-to  rent; 
By  his  good  will  to  saue  vs  all 

'He  therewith  was  content. 
By  his  good  will  death  hath  no  power 

"Our  sinfull  soules  to  kill; 
For  Christ  hath  paid  the  price  of  sinne 

With  mercie  and  good  will. 
Since  Christ  so  dearelie  loued  vs, 

Let  us  from  sinne  refraine ; 
For  Christ  desire th  nothing  els 

In  lieu  of  all  his  paine  : 
And  that  we  should  each  other  loue, 

As  he  vs  loou'd  before  ; 
So  shall  his  loue  abide  in  vs, 

And  dwell  for  euermore. 
Let  then  our  loue  so  dwell  in  him, 

Our  wicked  lusts  to  kill: 
For  Christ  hath  paid  the  price  of  sinne 

With  mercie  and  good  will. 


THESE  heares  of  age  are  messengers, 
Which  bidde  me  fast,  repent,  and  pray 
They  be  of  death  the  harbingers, 
That  dooth  prepare  and  dresse  the  way, 
Wherefore  I  ioie  that  you  may  see 
Upon  my  head  such  heares  to  be. 

GRAY    HAIRS.  159 

They  be  the  lines  that  lead  the  length, 
How  farre  my  race  is  for  to  runne : 
They  say  my  youth  is  fled  with  strength, 
And  how  olde  age  is  weake  begunne. 
The  which   I  feele,  and  you  may  see 
Upon  my  head   such  lines  to  be. 

They  be  the  stringes  of  sober  sound, 
Whose  musicke  is  harmonicall : 
Their  tunes  declare  a  time  from  ground 
I  came,  and  how  thereto  I  shall. 
Wherefore  I  ioie  that  you  may  see 
Upon  my  head  such  stringes  to  be. 
God  graunt  to  those  that  white  heares  haue 
No  worse  them  take  then  I  haue  ment : 
That  after  they  be  layde  in  graue, 
Their  soules  may  ioie  their  lives  well  spent. 
God  graunt  likewise,  that  you  may  see 
Upon  your  head  such  heares  to  be. 


To  Noah  and  his  sonnes  with  him 
God  spake,  and  thus  sayd  he : — 

A  cou'nant  set  I  vp  with  you 
And  your  posterity; 

And  with  eche  liuing  creature  els 
That  from  the  flood  was  free, 

Both  foule  and  beast  and  cattel  all,  , 
And  what  so  ere  it  be, 

Upon  the  earth  that  was  with  them, 
And  from  the  arke  did  passe, 

According  eu'ry  lyuing  thinge, 
As  then  my  pleasure  was. 


This  is  the  cou'naunt  that  I  make, 

From  henceforth  neuermore 
Whill    I  agayne  the  worlde  destroye 

With  water,  as  before. 
And  of  my  cou'naunt  this  shall  be 

The  sygne  and  token  sure, 
Twene  me  and  you  and  all  the  world 

For  euer  to  indure. 
My  bowe  in  cloud  I  haue  there  set, 

That  when  a  clowde  shall  falle, 
This  bowe  therein  shall  then  be  scene 

Of  liuing  creatures  all. 
And  I  wil  not  vnmyndful  be 

Of  this  my  cou'naunt  past 
Twixt  me  and  you  and  euery  flesh, 

Whyles  that  the  worlde  shall  last; 
But  stil  will  thinke  vpon  the  same, 

And  loke  vpon  the  bowe, 
The  token,  signe,  and  seale  most   sure 

Of  couenaunt  that  I  sliowe. 



PERUSE  with  pacience,  I  thee  praye, 
My  symple  style,  and  metre  base ; 
The  works  of  God  with  wisdome  waye, 
The  force  of  loue,  the  strength  of  grace. 

Loue  caused  God  his  grace  to  giue 
To  such  as  shoulde  for  hym  be  slayne : 
Grace  vvrougt  in  theym,  while  thei  did  line, 
For  loue  to  loue  their  Christ  agayne. 

Now  grace  is  of  such  strength  and  might, 
That  nothing  may  the  same  withstande  : 
Grace  putteth  death  and  hell  to  flight, 
And  guydes  vs  to  the  lyuing  lande. 

The  force  of  loue  also  is  suche, 
That  feare  and  payne  it  doeth  expell: 
Loue  thynketh  nothing  ouermuche ; 
Loue  doth  all  earthly  thynges  excell. 

Thus  loue  and  grace  of  God  began 
To  worke  in  them  to  dooe  hys  wyll : 
These,  vertue's  force,  wrought  loue  in  man, 
That  feare  was  past  theyr  bloude  to  spill. 

[ELIZ.  POETS.]  11 

162  THOMAS    BRYCE. 


WHEN  worthy  Wattes  with  constant  crie 
Continued  in  the  flarnyng  fier; 
When  Simson,  Hawkes,  and  Jhon  Ardite, 
Did  tast  the  tyrante's  raging  yre ; 

When  Chamberlaine  was  put  to  death, 
We  wisht  for  our  Elizabeth. 
When  blessed  Butter  and  Osmande 
With  force  of  fyre  to  death  were  brent ; 
When  Shitterdun,  Sir  Franke,  and  Blande, 
And  Humfrey  Middleton  of  Kent; 

When  Minge  in  Maistone  toke  his  death, 
We  wisht,  etc. 


When  Bradford,  beautified  with  blisse,  _ 
When  yong  Jhon  Least  in  Smithfield  died; 
When  they  like  brethren  both  did  kisse, 
/Vnd  in  the  fyre  were  truely  tried; 

When  teares  were  shed  for  Bradford's  death, 
We  wysht,  etc. 

When  Dirick  Harman  lost  his  lyfe ; 
When  Launder  in  their  fume  they  fried ; 
When  they  sent  Euerson  from  stryfe, 
With  moody  mindes  and  puffed  pride ; 
When  Wade  at  Dartford  died  the  death, 
We  wisht,  etc. 

When  Richard  Hooke,  limlesse  and  lame, 
At  Chichester  did  beare  the  crosse; 
When  humble  Hall  for  Christe's  name 
Ensued  the  same  with  worldly  losse; 
When  Jone  Polley  was  brent  to  death, 
We  wysht,  etc. 

THE    REGISTER.  163 

When  William  Ailewarde  at  Redding 
In  prison  died  of  sickenesse  soore ; 
When  Abbes,  which  fained  a  recanting, 
Did  wofully  wepe  and  deplore; 

When  he  at  Bery  was  done  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  Denly  died  at  Uxbridge  tovvne, 
With  constant  care  to  Christe's  cause ; 
When  Warren's  widow  yelded  downe 
Her  flesh  and  bloud  for  holy  lawes ; 

When  she  at  Stratforde  died  the  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Laurence,  Collier,  Coker,  and  Stere, 
At  Canterbury  were  causeless  slayne, 
With  Hopper  and  Wright,  six  in  one  fier, 
Conuerted  flesh  to  earth  agayne; 

When  Roger  Gorier  was  done  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Tankerfield  at  St  Albon's, 
And  William  Bamford  spent  his  bloud ; 
When  harmefull  hartes  as  hard  as  stones 
Brent  Robert  Smith  and  Steuen  Harwood; 

When  Patrick  Pattenham  died  the  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Jhon  Newman  and  Thomas  Fusse 
At  Ware  and  Walden  made  their  ende ; 
When  William  Hailes  for  Christ  Jesus 
With  breath  and  bloude  did  still  contende ; 

When  he  at  Barnet  was  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Samuell  did  firmely  fight, 
Till  flesh  and  bloud  to  ashes  went; 


164  THOMAS    BRYCE. 

When  constant  Cob,  with  faith  vpright, 
At  Thetforde  cruelly  was  brent ; 

When  these  with  joy  did  take  their  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  William  Allen  at  Walsingham 
For  trueth  was  tried  in  fiery  flame ; 
When  Roger  Cooe,  that  good  olde  man, 
Did  lose  his  lyfe  for  Christe's  name ; 

When  these  with  other  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Bradbridge,  Streter,  and  Burwarde, 
Tuttie,  and  George  Painter  of  Hyde, 
Vnto  their  duty  had  good  regarde, 
Wherefore  in  one  fier  they  were  fried; 

When  these  at  Canterbury  toke  their  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Jhon  Lesse,  prisoner  in  Newgate, 
By  sickenes  turned  to  yerth  and  claye; 
When  wicked  men,  with  yre  and  hate, 
Brent  Thomas  Heyvvarde  and  Goreway; 

When  Tingle  in  Newgate  toke  his  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Richard  Smith  in  Lowlar's  tower, 
Androwes  and  Kyng,  by  sickenes  died, 
In  faier  fieldes  they  had  their  bower, 
Where  earth  and  clay  doth  still  abide; 

When  they  in  this  wise  did  die  the  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 
When  Glouer  and  Cornelius 
Wrere  fiercely  brent  at  Couentrie; 
When  Wolsey  and  Pigot  for  Christ  Jesus 
At  Ely  felt  like  crueltie; 

When  the  pore  bewept  master  Glouer's  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

THE    REGISTER.  165 


When  learned  Ridley  and  Latymer 
Without  regarde  were  swiftly  slayne ; 
When  furious  foes  could  not  confer 
But  with  reuenge  and  mortall  paine; 

When  these  two  fathers  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  worthy  Web  and  George  Roper 
In  Elyes'  chayre  to  heauen  were  sent ; 
Also,  when  Gregory  Paynter 
The  same  streight  path  and  voiage  went; 

When  they  at  Canterbury  toke  their  deth, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  godly  Gore  in  pryson  died, 
And  Wiseman  in  the  Lowlar's  towre ; 
When  master  Philpot,  truely  tryed, 
Ended  his  life  with  peace  and  power; 

When  he  kissed  the  chayne  at  his  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  Thomas  Whitwell  and  Bartlet  Grene, 
Annis  Foster,  Jone  Lasheforde,  and  Browne, 
Tutson  and  Winter,  these  seuen  were  sene 
In  Smithfield  beate  their  enemies  doune, 
Euen  fleshe  and  deuil,  world  and  death, 
Then  we  wishte  for  Elizabeth. 

When  Jhon  Lowmas  and  An  Albright, 
Jone  Soale,  Jone  Painter,  and  Annis  Snod, 
In  fier  with  flesh  and  bloud  did  fight ; 
When  tonges  of  tyrantes  layed  on  lode; 

When  these  at  ones  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

166  THOMAS    BRYCE. 


When  two  women  in  Ippeswiche  towne 
Joyfully  did  the  fier  embrace ; 
When  they  sange  out  \\ith  chereful  sounde 
Their  fired  foes  for  to  deface  ; 

When  Norwich  Nobody1  put  them  to  deth, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  constant  Cranmer  lost  his  life, 
And  helde  his  hande  vnto  the  fier; 
When  streames  of  teares  for  him  were  rife, 
And  yet  did  misse  their  iust  desier ; 

When  popysh  power  put  him  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Spencer  and  two  brethren  more 
Were  put  to  death  at  Salisbury  ; 
Ashes  to  earth  did  right  restore, 
They  being  then  ioytull  and  mery; 

When  these  with  violence  were  put  to  deth, 

We  wyshte,  etc. 


When   Hulliarde,   a  pastour  pure, 
At  Cambridge   did  this  life  despise; 
When   Hartpoole's  death  thei  did  procure, 
To  make  his  flesh  a  sacrifice; 

When  Jone  Beche,  widow,  was  done  to  deth, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  William  Timmes,  Ambrose,  and  Drake, 
Spurge,  Spurge,  and  Cauell,   duely   died, 
Confessing  that  for  Christe's  sake 
They  were  content  thus   to  bee  tried ; 

1  Hopton,  bishop  of  Norwich. 

THE    REGISTER.  167 

When  London  Little- grace2  put  them  to  death, 
We  wyshte,  etc. 

When  lowly  Lister,  Nicol,  and   Mace, 
Jhon   Hammond,  Spencer,   and  Yren  also, 
At  Colchester,  in  the  posterne  place, 
Joyfully  to  their  death  did  go; 

When  two  at  Glocester  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  Margaret  Eliot,  being  a  maide, 
After  condemyning  in  prison   died; 
When  lame  Lauarocke  the  fire  assaide, 
And  blinde  Aprice  with  him  was  tryed ; 

When  these  two  impotentes  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Katherine  Hut  did  spend  her  hloude, 
With  two  maides,  Elizabeth  and  Jone; 
When  they  embraste  both  rede  and  woode, 
Trusting  in  Christ  his  death  alone; 

When  men  vnnatural  drew  these  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  two  men  and  a  syster  dere 
At  Bekelles  were  consumed  to  dust; 
When  William  Sleeke,  constant  and  cleare, 
In  prison  died  with  hope  and  trust; 

When  these  our  brethren  wer  put  to  death, 

We  wyshte,  etc. 


When  John  Oswold  and  Thomas  Reede, 
Harland,  Milwright,  and  Euington, 
With  biasing  brandes  their  bloude  did  bleede, 
As  their  brethren  before  had  done  ; 

2  Bonner,  bishop  of  London. 

168  THOMAS    BRYCE. 

When  tyranny  draue  these  to  death, 
We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Whod,  the  pastor,  with  Thomas  Milles, 
At  Lewes  lost  this  mortall  gayne, 
Compast  with  speares  and  bloudye  bylles 
Vnto  the  stake  for  to   bee  slayne ; 

When  William  Adheral  did  die  the  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Jackson,  Holyvvel,  and  Wye, 
Bovvier,  Laurence,  and  Addlington  ; 
When  Roth,  Searles,  Lion,  and  Hurst,  did  die, 
With  whom  two  women  to  death  were  done; 

When  Dorifall  with  them  was  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Thomas  Parret,  prisoner, 

And  Martyne  Hunte  died  in  the  King's  Bench, 

When  the  yong  man  at  Lecester 

And  Clemente  died  with  filthie  stenche ; 

When  Careless  so  toke  his  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  Askue,   Palmer,  and  Jhon  Gwin, 
Were  brent  with  force  at  Newbury; 
Lamenting  onely  for  theyr  sinne, 
And  in  the  Lorde  were  full  mery : 

When  tyrantes  merciles  put  these  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Jhon  Foreman  and  mother  Tree 
At  Grenstede  cruelly  were  slaine  ; 
When  Thomas  Dungate,  to  make  vp  three, 
With  them  did  passe  from  wo  and  payne  ; 

When  these  with  other  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

THE    REGISTER.  169 


When  two  at  Asheforde  with  crueltie 
For  Christe's  cause  to  death  were  brent  ; 
When  not  long  after  two  at  Wye 
Suffered  for  Christ  his  testament ; 

When.wyly  wolues  put  these  to  death, 

We  wishte,   etc. 


When  Stanlye's  wife  and  Annis   Hide, 
Sturtle,   Ramsey,   and  Jhon  Lothesby, 
Were  contente  tormentes  to  abide, 
And  toke  the  same  right  paciently ; 

When  these  in  Smithfield  wer  done  to  death, 

We  wisht,  etc. 


When  William  Morant  and  Steuen  Grathwick 
Refusde  with  falshode  to  bee  beguilde, 
And  for  the  same  were  burned  quicke 
With  fury  in  St  George's  Fielde; 

When  these  with  other  were  put  to  death, 

We  wyshte,  etc. 


When  Jone  Bradbridge,  and  a  blind  maide, 
Appleby,  Allen,   and  bothe  their  vviues ; 
When   Manning's  wife  was  not  afrayde ; 
But  al  these  seuen  did  lose  their  Hues ; 

When  these  at  Maistone  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Jhon  Fiscoke,  Perdue,  and  White, 
Barbara,  widow,  and  Bendens'  wife, 

170  THOMAS    BRYCE. 

With  Wilson's  wife,  did  firmly  fight, 
And  for  their  faith  al  lost  their  life  ; 

When  these  at  Canterbury  died  the  death, 

We  wysht,  etc. 

When  William  Mainarde,  his  maide,  and  man, 
Margery  Mories  and  her  sonne, 
Dents,  Burges,  Steuens,   and  Wodman, 
Gloue's  wife  and  Ashdon's,  to  death  were  done ; 

When  one  fyre  at  Lues  brought  to  their  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  Ambrose  died  in  Maistone  gaile, 
And  so  set  free  from   tyrauntes'  hands; 
When   Simon  Milner  they  did  assayle, 
Hauing  him  and  a  woman  in  bandes  ; 

When  these  at  Norwich  were  don  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  ten  at  Colchester  in   one  daye 
Were  fried  with  fyre  of  tyrantes  stoute; 
Not  once  permitted  trueth  to  say, 
But  were   compast  with  billes  aboute; 

When  these  with  other  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  George  Egles  at  Chelmsford  towne 
Was  hanged,   drawen,  and  quartered ; 
His  quarters   carried  vp  and  doune, 
And  on  a  pole   thei  set  his  head ; 

When  wrested  law  put  him  to  death, 

We  wyshte,  etc. 

When  Thurston's  wife  at  Chichester, 
And  Bowmer's  wife  with  her  also ; 
When  two  women  at  Rochester, 
With  father  Fruier,  were  sent  from  wo ; 

THE    REGISTER.  171 

When  one  at  Norwich  did  die  the  death, 
We  wyshte,  etc 


When  Joyce  Bowes  at  Lichefield  died, 
Continuing  constant  in  the   fier ; 
When  tired  faith  was  truely  tried, 
Hauing  her  iuste  and  long  desier; 

When  she  with  others  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Richard  Rooth  and  Rafe  Glaiton, 
With  James   Auscoo  and  his   wife, 
Were  brent  with  force  at  Islyngton, 
Ending  this  short  and  sinneful  life; 

When  thei  in  cherefulnes  did  take  their  death, 

We  wyshte,  etc. 


When  Sparrow,  Gibson,  and  Hollingday, 
In  Smithfield  did  the  stake  embrace; 
When  fire  conuerted  fleshe  to  clay, 
Thei  being  ioyfull  of  such  grace; 

When  lawless  libertie  put  them  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  Jhon  Roughe,  a  minister  weke, 
And  Margaret  Mering,  with  corage  died, 
Because  Christ  onely  they  did  seeke, 
With  fier  of  force  they  must  bee  fried ; 

When  these  in  Smithfield  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  that  Jhon  Denneshe  and  Hugh  Foxe 
In  Smithfielde  cruell  wrath  sustained, 

172  THOMAS    BRYCE. 

As  fixed  foes  to  Romish  rockes, 
And  Cutbbert  Symion,  also  Hayne; 

When  these  did  worthely  receyue  their  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Dale  disseast  in  Bery  gaile, 
According  to  God's  ordinaunce  ; 
When  widow  Thurstone  thei  did  assaile, 
And  brought  An  Banger  to  death  his  daunce ; 

When  these  at  Colchester  were  done  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  William  Nicoll  in  Harforwest 
Was  tryed  with  their  fiery  fan  ; 
When  Symon  fought  against  the  best, 
With  Glouer  and  Thomas  Carman ; 

When  these  at  Norwiche  did  die  the  death, 

We  wyshte,  etc. 


When  William  Harris  and  Richard  Day 
And  Christian  George  by  them  was  brent, 
Holding  their  enemies  at  baye, 
Till  life  was  lost  and  breath  all  spent ; 

When  these  at  Colchester  wer  put  to  death, 

We  wyshte,  etc. 


When  Southam,  Launder,  and  Ricarbie, 
Hollyday,  Holland,  Houde,  and  Flood, 
With  cherefull  look  and  constant  crie, 
For  Christe's  cause  did  spend  their  bloud; 

When  these  in  Smithfield  wer  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Thomas  Tyler  past  this  place, 
And  Matthew  Withers  also  died  ; 
Though  sute  were  much,  yet  little  grace 
Among  the  rulers  could  be  spied  ; 

THE    REGISTER.  173 

In  prison  paciently  they  tooke  their  death, 
We  wishynge  for  Elizabeth. 


When  Richard  Yeman,  minister, 
At  Norwich  did  his  life  forsake ; 
When  master  Benbrike  at  Winchester 
A  liuely  sacrifice  did  make ; 

When  these  with  other  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  William  Peckes,  Cotton,  and  Wreight, 
The  popish  power  did  soore  inuade, 
To  burning  schole  thei  wer  sent  streight, 
And  with  them  went  constant  Jhon  Slade ; 

When  these  at  Bramford  wer  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 


When  Alexander  Geche  was  brent, 
And  with  him  Elizabeth  Launson ; 
When  thei  with  ioye  did  both  consent 
To  doe  as  their  brethren  had  done; 

When  these  at  Ipswich  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  Jhon  Dauy,  and  eke  his  brother, 
With  Philip  Humfrey,  kist  the  crosse ; 
When  they  did  comfort  one  another 
Against  all  feare  and  worldlye  losse ; 

When  these  at  Bery  were  put  to  death, 

We  wishte,  etc. 

When  laste  of  all,  to  take  theyr  leaue, 
At  Canterbury  they  did  consume, 
Who  constantly  to  Christ  did  cleaue, 
Therefore  were  fried  with  fierie  fume, — 

But  sixe  daies  after  these  were  put  to  death 

God  sent  vs  our  Elizabeth. 

174  THOMAS    BRYCE. 

Our  wished  welth  hath  brought  vs  peace: 
Our  ioy  is  full,  our  hope  obtayned; 
The  biasing  brandes  of  fier  doe  cease, 
The  sleaying  svvorde  also  restrayned ; 
The  simple  shepe  presented  from  death 
By  our  good  queene  Elizabeth. 

As  hope  hath  here  obtained  her  pray, 

By  Godde's  good  will  and  prouidence ; 

So  trust  doth  truely  looke  for  staye 

Through  his  heauenly  influence, 

That  great  Golia  shall  be  put  to  death 
By  our  good  queene  Elizabeth : 

That  Godde's  trew  word  shall  placed  be, 
The  hungrie  soules  for  to  sustaine; 
That  perfite  loue  and  vnitie 
Shall  be  set  in  their  seate  agayne ; 

That  no  more  good  men  shal  be  put  to  death, 
Seeing  God  hath  sent  Elizabeth. 

Pray  we,  therefore,  both  night  and  day, 
For  her  highnes,  as  we  bee  bounde: 
Oh  Lorde,  preserue  this  braunch  of  bay, 
And  all  her  foes  with  force  confounde ; 

Here  long  to  lyue,  and  after  death 

Receyue  our  queene  Elizabeth. 


Apoc.  6. 

How  long  tariest  thou,  O  Lorde,  holy  and  trewe, 
to  iudge  and  aduenge  our  blood  on  them  that 
dwell  on  the  earth  ? 

THE    WISHES    OF    THE    WISE.  175 


The  ivishes  of  the  wise, 
Which  longe  to  be  at  rest; 
To  God  inth  lifted  iyes 
Thei  call  to  be  redreste. 

WHEN  shal  this  time  of  trauail  cease, 
Which  we  with  wo  sustayne  ? 

When  shal  the  daies  of  rest  and  peace 
Returne  to  vs  agayne  ? 

When  shall  the  minde  be  moued  right 

To  leaue  hys  lustyng  life  ? 
When  shall  our  mocions  and  delight 

Be  free  from  wrath  and  strife? 

When  shall  the  tyme  of  wofull  teares 

Be  moued  vnto  myrth  ? 
When  shall  the  aged  with  gray  heares 

Reioyce  at  children's  byrth? 

When  shall  Hierusalem  reioyce 
In  him  that  is  their  Kyng, 

And  Sion  hill  with  cherefull  voyce 
Synge  psalmes  with  triumphyng? 

When  shall  the  walles  erected  bee, 
That  foes  with  furie  fraye? 

When  shall  that  perfect  oliue-tree 
Geue  odour  like  the  haye  ? 

When  shall  the  vineyard  be  restorde 
That  beastly e  bores  deuour  ? 

When  shall  the  people,  late  abhorde, 
Receuye  a  quiet  houre  ? 

When  shal  the  spirit  more  feruent  be 
In  vs  that  want  good  wyll? 

176  THOMAS    BRYCE. 

When  shall  thy  mercies  set  vs  free 
From  wickednesse  and  yll? 

When  shall  the  serpentes,  that  surmise 

To  poyson  thine  electe, 
Be  bounde  to  better  exercise, 

Or  vtterly  reiecte  ? 
When  shall  the  bloude  reuenged  be 

Which  on  the  earth  is  shed? 
When  shall  synne  and  iniquitie 

Be  caste  into  the  ded  ? 
When  shall  that  man  of  synne  appeare 

To  bee  euen  as  he  is  ? 
When  shal  thy  babes  and  children  dere 

Receyue  eternall  blisse? 

When  shall  that  painted  hore  of  Rome 

Be  cast  vnto  the  grounde  ? 
When  shal  her  children  haue  their  dome, 

Which  vertue  would  confounde? 

When  shall  thy  spouse  and  turtle- doue 

Be  free  from  bitter  bla'ste  ? 
When  shal  thy  grace  our  sinnes  remoue 

With  pardon  at  the  laste  ? 

When  shal  this  lyfe  translated  bee 

From  fortune's  fickell  fall  ? 
When  shall  true  faith  and  equitie 

Remaine  in  generall  ? 
When  shall  contention  and  debate 

For  euer  slake  and  cease? 
When  shall  the  daies  of  euill  date 

Be  tourned  vnto  peace? 
When  shall  trew  dealing  rule  the  roste 

With  those  that  bye  and  sell, 

THE    WISHES    OF    THE    WISE.  177 

And  single  minde  in  euery  coaste 
Among  vs  bide  and  dwell? 

When  shall  our  mindes  wholly  conuert 
From  wealth  and  world  lye  gayne  ? 

When  shall  the  monynges  of  our  harte 
From  wickednes  refrayne  ? 

When  shall  this  flesh  retourne  to  duste, 
From  whence  the  same  did  spryng? 

When  shal  the  triall  of  our  trust 
Appeare  with  triumphyng? 

When  shal  the  trumpe  blow  out  his  blast, 

And  thy  dere  babes  reuiue? 
When  shal  the  hoare  be  headlong  cast, 

That  sought  vs  to  depryue  ? 

When  shall  thy  Christ  our  Kyng  appeare 

With  power  and  renowne? 
When  shall  thy  sainctes  that  suffer  here 

Receyue  their  promest  crowne? 

When  shall  the  faithfull  firmely  stande 

Before  thy  face  to  dwell? 
When  shall  thy  foes  at  thy  lyfte  hand 

Be  caste  into  the  hell  ? 

[ELIZ.  POETS  ]  12 



From  "A  small  Handfull  of  Fragrant  Flowers,  gathered  out  of    I 
the  Lovely  Garden  of  Sacred  Scriptures,  fit  for  any  honor 
able  or  worshippfull  Gentlewomen  to  smell  to." 

DEARE  dames,  your  sences  to  revive, 
Accept  these  flowers  in  order  heare : 

Then,  for  the  time  you  are  alive, 

Renowne  your  golden  dayes  shall  beare. 

Marke  therefore  what  they  have  to  name, 

And  learne  to  imitate  the  same. 

The  first  resembleth  Constancie, 
A  worthie  budde  of  passing  fame ; 

Which  every  gentle  certeinlie 

Delightes  to  chuse  of,  for  the  name. 

The  cause  is,  that,  the  truth  to  tell, 

It  sents  and  savours  passing  well. 


This  pleasaunt  braunche  in  Sarae's  brest 

Was  dayly  used  for  a  showe ; 
So  that  her  fayth  among  the  rest 

Thereby  did  bountifullie  growe: 
And  she  extolled  was  therefore, 
As  noble  matrone  evermore. 

The  second  budde  is  Modestie, 
Which  Triata  did  much  delight, 

STANZAS.  179 

And  furnished  the  companie 

Of  many  a  Roman  matrone  bright; 
So  that  no  blemish  there  did  growe, 
As  long  as  they  the  same  could  showe. 

The  third  is  vertuous  Exercise; 

The  fourth  is  called  Humilitie  ; 
The  fifth,  to  set  before  your  eyes 

The  feare  of  God  most  reverently; 
The  sixth,  obedience  to  the  crowne, 
And  princes'  lawes,  with  great  renowne. 

The  seventh  is  Pacience,  for  to  beare 
The  crosse  of  Christe  continually ; 

The  eyght  is  liberall  talke  to  heare, 
And  use  the  same  indifferently  ; 

The  ninth  is  called  Chastitie ; 

The  tenth  to  put  up  injurie. 

The  eleventh  is,  to  sustayne  the  poore ; 

The  twelfth  to  aide  the  comfortlesse, 
And  to  endeavour  more  and  more 

To  trayne  your  steppes  to  godlynes : 
The  thirtenth,  that  is  cheefest  skill, 
Which  we  doo  call — do  good  for  ill. 

The  fourtenth  is,  to  love  the  trouth, 
And  flatterie  wholy  for  to  shunne  ; 

The  feftenth,  barre  the  chaire  of  slouth, 
Whereby  full  many  are  undoune : 

For  idleness  doth  shame  but  wynne, 

And  is  the  entraunce  unto  sinne. 

The  sixtenth  flower  is  willing  zeale 

Unto  the  sacred  veritie, 
Which  is  a  lanterne  to  your  feete, 

To  leade  you  to  sinceritie  : 
The  sevententh  blossom  fresh  of  hue, 
In  wordes  and  deedes  for  to  be  true. 



The  eyghtenth  is,  for  to  restore 

That  by  oppression  hath  ben  gotte; 
The  niententh,  for  to  cure  that  sore 

Which  careless  conscience  makes  to  rotte : 
The  twenteth  is  sweet  Charitie, 
The  fruites  whereof  begin  to  dye. 
There  are,  besides  these,  godly  love; 

Whose  leaves  though  they  be  not  so  greene, 
Yet  who  to  plucke  thereof  wyl  prove, 

Shall  with  Lucrecia  soone  be  seene 
To  shine  in  wordes  and  deedes  as  bright 
As  when  the  moone  doth  yeelde  her  lyght. 
Loe,  gentles!  this  small  bunch  of  Flowres 

It  is  that  may  encrease  your  fame ; 
For  they  be  watered  with  the  showres 

That  Sacred  Scriptures  have  to  name : 
You  may  discerne  them  by  the  seedes, 
Full  much  vnlike  to  worldly  weedes. 



Whereby,  through  the  helpe  of  the  devine  grace,  they  may    ! 
attayne  the  right  sente  of  this  Posie  of  Godly  Flowres. 

VOUCHSAFE,  O  Lord!  to  be  our  guide; 

The  Spirit  of  grace  into  us  powre ! 
Defende  our  cause  on  every  side, 

That  we  may  pass  into  the  bowre, 
Where  as  those  heavenly  flowres  do  growe 
By  Christ  that  garden  first  dyd  sowe. 

Illuminate  our  inwarde  minde 

To  seeke  to  Thee  continually; 
From  worldly  errours  that  be  blind 

Preserve  us  for  thy  majestic. 

A    PRAYER    FOR    GENTLEWOMEN.         181 

Teach  us,  as  we  in  wordes  professe, 
In  deedes  each  one  to  do  no  lesse. 

Assist  us  dayly  to  beginne 

Spiritually  to  enter  fight 
Agaynst  the  worlde,  the  flesh,  and  sinne; 

That  we  may  shunne  the  duskie  night, 
In  whiche  our  enemie,  the  devill, 
Doth  watche  to  worke  each  Christian  evyll. 

Arm  us  with  faytli,  to  beare  the  shielde, 
And  sworde  of  heavenlie  puritie ; 

Crowne  us  with  helmet  in  the  fielde 
Of  thy  surpassing  veritie. 

Graunt  this,  0  bounteous  Jesu  sweete, 

That  we  with  Thee  at  last  may  meete. 


OH  heavenly  Lord !  who  plain  doost  see 
The  thoughts  of  ech  man's  heart; 

Who  sendest  some  continuall  plague, 
And  some  relief  of  smart ; 

Pittie,  0  Lorde !  the  wofuil  state 

Wherein  I  dayly  stand; 
And  onely  for  thy  mercies'  sake 

Now  helpe  me  out  of  hande. 
And  as  it  was  thy  pleasure  fyrst, 

To  plague  me  thus  with  greefe ; 
So  canst  thou,  Lorde,  if  thee  it  please, 

With  speede  send  me  releefe. 
I  must  of  force  confesse,  O  Lorde ! 

I  can  it  not  denye, 
That  I  deserve  these  plagues,  and  worse, 

And  that  continually. 


Yet  doo  not  Thou  therefore  on  me 
Thy  judgments  just  extend ; 

But  pardon  me,  and  graunt  me  grace 
My  life  for  to  amend. 

And  banish,  Lord!  from  me  delights 

Of  worldly  vanitie, 
And  lend  me  helpe  to  pace  the  pathes 

Of  perfect  pietie ; 

And  truly  so  to  tread  the  pathes, 

And  in  such  godly  wise, 
That  they  may  bring  me  to  the  place 

Of  perfect  Paradice. 

And  not  to  wander  up  and  downe 

In  wayes  of  weary  wo, 
Where  wicked,  wily,  wanton  toyes 

Do  leade  me  too  and  fro. 

The  sap  of  Sapience  likes  me  not, 
That  pleaseth  not  my  taste ; 

But  fond  delight,  that  wicked  weede, 
Was  all  my  chief  repaste : 

Wherein,  as  hooke  within  the  baight, 

So  doo  I  plainly  finde 
Some  hidden  poyson  lurking  lyes 

For  to  infect  my  minde. 

But  wherefore  doo  I  finde  it  now? 

Because  I  now  do  see 
That,  wanting  smart,  I  wanted  grace 

For  to  acknowledge  thee. 

But  now,  O  Lord,  that  I  so  sore 
Doo  feele  thy  punishment, 

I  doo  lament  my  folly  great, 
And  all  my  sinnes  repent. 


And  to  thy  heavenly  throane,  O  Lord! 

For  mercy  I  appeale, 
To  send  me,  Lord,  some  heavenly  salve 

My  greevous  sores  to  heale. 

Beholde,  0  Lord !  my  sorrowes  such 

As  no  man  dooth  endure; 
And  eke  my  greevous  sicknesse  such 

As  none  but  Thou  canst  cure. 

And  as  thou  art  a  gratious  God 

To  men  in  misery, 
So  pitty  me,  that  thus,  0  Lord! 

Do  pine  in  penurie. 

And  as  Thou  art  a  help  to  all 
That  put  their  trust  in  Thee, 

So  held  in  this  my  deepe  distresse 
Some  comfort  lend  to  me. 

And  hold,  O  Lord !  thy  heavy  hand, 

And  lay  thy  scourge  aside  ; 
For,  Lord,  the  greevous  smart  thereof 

I  can  no  longer  bide. 

Forgive  my  sinnes,  forget  the  same ; 

Beholde  my  humble  heart, 
Who  onely,  Lord,  doo  trust  in  thee 

For  to  releeve  my  smart. 

And  after  this  my  wretched  life, 
Lord,  graunt  me  of  thy  grace, 

That  I  in  heauen  at  latter  daye 
May  have  a  joyfull  place. 

184        SIR  NICHOLAS  BRETON. 

PLANTB,  Lorde,  in  me  the  tree  of  godly  lyfe; 

Hedge  me  about  with  the  strong  fence  of  faith  : 
If  thee  it  please,  use  eke  thy  proyning  knife, _ 
Least  that,  oh  Lord !  as  a  good  gardiner  saith, 
If  suckers  draw  the  sappe  from  roots  on  hie, 
Perhaps,  in  tyme,  the  top  of  tree  may  die. 
|    Let,  Lord,  this  tree  be  set  within  thy  garden-wall 
:    Of  Paradise,  where  growes  no  one  ill  sprigg  at  all. 


i    PITIE,  oh  Lord,  thy  seruaunt's  heavy  heart ; 

Her  sinnes  forgiue,  that  thus  for  mercy  cryes: 
!    Judge  no  man,  Lorde,  according  to  desart ; 

Let  fall  on  her  with  speede  thy  healthfull  eyes, 
In  hart  who  prayes  to  thee  continually, 
Putting  her  only  trust,  O1  God,  in  Thee! 
I    Lorde !  Lorde !  to  Thee  for  mercy  still  I  call : 
0  set  me  free,  that  thus  am  bound  and  thrall. 

!   OH,  the  sweete  sence  of  loue's  humilitie, 

i   Which  feares  displeasure  in  a  deerest  friend  ; 
|   The  only  note  of  true  nobilitie, 
i   Whose  worthy  grace  is  graced  without  end  ; 
i   While  faythfull  lone,  in  humble  truth  approued, 
|    Doth  euer  Hue,  of  God  and  man  beloued. 

Her  grace  is  gratious  in  the  sight  of  God  ; 

Makes  men  as  saincts,  and  women  angells  seeme ; 

Makes  sinne  forgotten ;  mercy  vse  no  rodd ; 
I    And  constant  fayth  to  growe  in  great  esteem e  ; 

1  Old  edition,  of. 

THE    PRAISE    OF    HUMILITY.  185 

And  is,  in  summe,  a  blessing  of  the  highest, 
And  to  the  nature  of  himselfe  the  nighest. 

It  maketh  beawty  like  the  sunne  to  shine, 
As  if  on  earth  there  were  a  heau'nly  light : 
It  maketh  witt  in  vvisedome  so  diuine, 
As  if  the  eie  had  a  celestiall  sight : 
It  is  a  guide  vnto  that  heauen  of  rest, 
Where  blessed  soules  doe  Hue  for  euer  blest. 

In  Christ  it  is  a  grace  of  worthy  glory ; 
In  man,  from  God  a  guift  of  speciall  grace  ; 
While  in  the  state  of  vertues,  honor's  story, 
Wisedome  doth  find  itt  in  perfection's  place ; 
And  plac't  so  high  in  the  Allmightie's  loue, 
As  nothing  more  can  mercie's  comfort  prone. 
It  makes  the  eie  looke  down  into  the  harte  ; 
The  harte  obedient  vnto  witt  and  sence  ; 
And  euery  limme  to  play  a  seruant's  parte, 
Vnto  the  will  of  witt's  prseheminence  : 
It  brings  the  minde  vnto  the  body  soe, 
That  one  the  other  cannott  ouergoe. 

It  is  the  death  of  pride,  and  patience  loue ; 
Passion's  phisition  ;  reason's  councellour  ; 
Religion's  darling ;  labour's  turtle-doue  ; 
Learning's  instructer ;  grace's  register  ; 
Time's  best  attendant,  and  truthe's  best  explainer; 
Vertue's  best  louer,  and  loue's  truest  gainer. 

It  is  the  prince's  grace ;  the  subiect's  duety  ; 
The  scholar's  lesson,  and  the  soldier's  line ; 
The  courtier's  creditt,  and  the  ladies'  beawty ; 
The  lawier's  vertue ;  and  the  loue  diuine, 
That  makes  all  sences  gratious  in  his  sight, 
Where  all  true  graces  haue  theyr  glorious  light. 
Itt  makes  the  harte  fitt  for  all  good  impression  ; 
Itt  doth  prepare  the  spirit  for  perfection  ; 

186        SIR  NICHOLAS  BRETON. 

Itt  brings  the  sovvle  vnto  her  shines'  confession  ; 
Itt  helpes  to  cleere  the  body  from  infection  : 
Itt  is  the  meane  to  bring  the  minde  to  rest, 
Where  harte,  sovvle,  body,  minde,  and  all,  are  blest. 

Itt  made  the  mother  of  the  Soonne  of  God 
Gratious  in  him,  who  made  her  full  of  grace  ; 
And  on  her  Sonne  itt  blessedly  abode, 
In  bearing  all  the  filthy  world's  deface  ; 
And  in  his  seruants,  for  theyr  Master's  lone, 
Did  fayth's  affections  in  theyr  passions  proue. 

It  saued  Abraham's  sonne  from  sacrifice, 
When  Isaack's  death  was  quitted  by  the  rame  ; 
Itt  saued  Noah  and  his  progenies, 
When  on  the  earth  destruction's  deluge  came  ; 
Itt  saued  Lott  from  hurt  of  Sodom's  fire, 
And  Israeli  from  cruel  Pharaoh's  ire. 
Itt  wrought  in  Dauid  gratious  penitence  ; 
In  Ninivie  a  sweete  submission; 
In  Job  a  famous  blessed  patience  ; 
In  Pawle  assurance  of  his  shines'  remission  ; 
!    In  John  the  habitt  of  a  holy  loue ; 
|   In  Christ  the  grace  that  did  all  glory  proue. 
i   Itt  euer  holds  the  hand  of  faythfulnes; 
And  ever  keeps  the  minde  of  godlynes  ; 
And  euer  brings  the  harte  to  quietnes ; 
And  euer  leads  the  soule  to  happines  ; 
And  is  a  vertue  of  that  blessednes, 
That  merits  praise  in  highest  worthines. 
Oh,  how  it  gaynes  the  child  the  parent's  loue, 
The  wife  her  husband's,  and  the  seruants  master's; 
Where  humble  fayth  in  happie  hope's  behoue 
Finds  patience,  care  discomfort's  healing  plasters, 
And  truest  course  of  care's  tranquilitie 
Only  to  rest  butt  in  humility. 

THE    PRAISE    OF    HUMILITY.  187 

And  since  that  in  the  life  of  humble  loue 
I  see  the  waye  vnto  the  well  of  blisse, 
Where  patience  doth  in  all  perfection  proue, 
Where  the  high  blessing  of  all  blessing  is ; 
Let  my  sowle  pray  that  I  may  humbly  sing 
The  heauenly  prayses  of  my  holy  Kinge. 


O  HOLY  essence  of  all  holynes ; 
Grace  of  all  glory ;  glory  of  all  grace ; 
Perfection's  vertue  ;  vertue's  perfectnes  ; 
Place  of  all  beawtie ;  beawtie  of  all  place  ; 
Truthe's  only  tryall ;  tyme's  seternitie ; 
Incomprehensible  in  thy  Deitie : 

Wisdome's  deuiser;  father  of  her  loue; 
Constancie's  proofe,  and  life  of  patience ; 
Humilitie's  essence  ;  fayth's  true  turtle-doue  ; 
Mercie's  almighty  glorious  residence  : 
Sweete  Jesus  Christ,  mine  humble  sowle  en- 
To  sing  the  glory  of  thy  holy  name. 

Before  what  was,  but  that  which  euer  is, 
The  Godhead,  all  incomprehensible ; 
Sweete  Jesus  Christ,  the  essence  of  all  blisse, 
But  in  his  manhood  only  sensible, 
My  Sauiour  was,  and  in  himselfe  alone 
Contayning  all  things,  but  contaynd  in  none. 

The  nature  of  all  vertues  in  his  nature 
Had  all  theyr  essence  of  theyr  only  being, 
When  in  creation  of  each  kinde  of  creature 
Wisdome  in  him  had  only  all  her  seeing, 
Whose  loue  in  him  yet  constant  patience  found, 
That  of  her  grace  and  glory  was  the  grownd. 

188        SIR  NICHOLAS  BRETON. 

His  spotless  vertue  all  his  life  did  prove, 
In  doing  good  to  all,  and  ill  to  none  ; 
His  wisedome  did  the  doctors'  wonder  moue  ; 
His  loue  the  touchstone  of  all  truth  alone ; 
His  constancie  euen  to  his  dying  hower 
Did  shew  his  patience  had  a  heauenly  power. 

And  for  the  note  of  his  humilitie 

His  crosse  bare  witness  in  his  lyfe  and  death, 

Who  bare  all  basenes'  inciuilitie, 

Yitt  neuer  breath'd  the  smallest  angry  breath  : 

O  glorious  King,  that  came  from  heauen  on  high, 

Vpon  this  earth  for  beggars  so  to  dye. 

His  vertue  in  his  will  his  woorde  doth  showe ; 
His  wisedome  in  election  and  creation  ; 
His  loue  his  louers  by  his  death  do  knowe ; 
His  constancy  his  patience  confirmation ; 
His  patience  his  humilitie  did  proue ; 
And  all,  in  summe,  his  glory  from  aboue. 

Whose  vertue  such  as  his  that  could  not  sinne  ? 
Whose  wisdome  such  as  woorketh  vertucs*  witt? 
Whose  loue  is  such  as  wisedome  liueth  in  ? 
Whose  constancy  doth  shew  such  kindnes  still  ? 
Whose  patience  such  as  did  his  passion  showe  ? 
Or  who  so  high  and  euer  brought  so  low  ? 

What  vertue  doth,  his  wisedome  doth  express  ; 
What  wisedome  doth,  his  loue  doth  manifest ; 
What  loue  doth,  doth  his  constancy  confesse; 
What  constancy  doth,  in  his  patience  blest ; 
What  patience  doth,  humilitie  doth  tell ; 
In  him  alone  they  all  and  only  dwell. 

Then  lett  the  vertuous  for  all  vertue  loue  him ; 
And  lett  the  wise  in  wisedome's  loue  admire  him ; 
And  let  the  constant  in  all  kindenes  proue  him  ; 
And  lett  the  patient  patiently  desire  him ; 

GLORIA    IN    EXCELSIS    DEO.  189 

And  lett  the  humble  humbly  fall  before  him  ; 
And  all  together  all  in  all  adore  him. 

Oh  that  the  world  could  see  his  vertues'  beawty ; 

Or  witt  of  man  his  wisedome's  maiestie  ; 

Or  loue  could  looke  into  his  constancy ; 

Or  patience  into  his  humilitie  ! 

Then  vice,  nor  folly,  frailtie,  rage,  nor  pride, 

Should  in  the  minds  of  men  so  much  abide. 

His  vertue  made  the  first  perfection's  nature  ; 
His  wisedome  made  the  forme  of  all  perfection ; 
His  loue  did  giue  the  lyfe  to  euery  creature ; 
His  constancy  the  care  of  loue's  direction; 
His  patience  medicine  for  all  miseries, 
His  humblenes  the  waye  to  Paradice. 

Wouldst  thow  be  perfect?  in  his  vertues  knowe  itt ; 
Wouldstthow  be  vertuous?  in  his  wisedome  learne 


Wouldst  thow  be  wise  ?  in  his  loue  only  show  itt ; 
Wouldst  thow  be  louing?  in  his  life  discerne  itt; 
Wouldst  thow  be  constant?  in  his  care  conceiue  itt ; 
Wouldst  thow  be  patient?  in  his  death  perceiue  itt. 

Wouldst  thow  be  humble?  in  his  lowliness 
Learne  to  submitt  thyself  to  higher  powers. 
Wouldst  thow  be  blessed  ?  in  his  blessednes 
Learne  to  bestow  the  labour  of  thine  howers. 
Wouldst  thow  be  holy,  and  Hue  happie  euer  ? 
Liue  in  his  loue,  and  thow  shalt  Hue  for  euer. 

The  infinite  good  thoughts  his  vertue  giueth, 
The  infinite  good  woorks  his  will  perfecteth, 
The  infinite  good  lyfe  in  his  loue  liueth, 
The  infinite  loue  his  constancie  effecteth, 
The  infinite  constancy  his  patience  proueth, 
Doe  humblie  shew  with  infinitenes  loueth. 

190         SIR  NICHOLAS  BRETON. 

Since  vertues,  then,  good  thoughts  are  infinite, 
And  infinite  in  vertue  is  good  thought; 
And  infinite  in  wisedome  is  good  witt ; 
And  infinite  is  loue  by  wisedome  wrought; 
And  infinite  is  constancy  in  loue, 
Which  infinitely  patience  doth  prooue : 

In  infinite  humilitie  of  harte, 

Vnto  the  height  of  all  infinitie, 

In  infinite  perfection  of  each  parte 

That  makes  the  infinite  Diuinitie ; 

The  Father,  Soonne,  and  Holy  Ghost,  all  three 

In  one,  one  God,  all  infinite  glory  bee. 

And  since  no  harte  is  able  to  attayne 
Vnto  his  holy  and  seternall  praise, 
To  whom  alone  doth  duly  appertayne 
The  date  of  glories'  neuer-ending  dayes ; 
When  angells  in  theyr  halleluiah  dwell, 
Lett  me  but  sing  Amen,  and  I  am  well. 


From  "  An  Excellent  Poeme  upon  the  longing  of  a  blessed 
heart,  which  loathing  the  world  doth  long  to  be  with  Christ." 

MEN  talke  of  loue  that  know  not  what  it  is  ; 
For  could  we  know  what  loue  may  be  indeede, 
We  would  not  haue  our  mindes  so  led  amisse 
With  idle  toyes  that  wanton  humours  feede : 
But  in  the  rules  of  higher  reason  read 

What  loue  may  be  so  from  the  world  conceal'd, 
Yet  all  too  plainely  to  the  world  reveal'd. 

It  is  too  cleare  a  brightnesse  for  man's  eye ; 
Too  high  a  wisedome  for  his  wits  to  finde ; 

STANZAS.  191 

Too  deepe  a  secret  for  his  sense  to  trie ; 
And  all  too  heauenly  for  his  earthly  minde  : 
It  is  a  grace  of  such  a  glorious  kinde 

As  giues  the  soule  a  secret  power  to  know  it, 
But  giues  no  heart  nor  spirit  power  to  show  it. 

It  is  of  heauen  and  earth  the  highest  beautie ; 

The  povverfull  hand  of  heauen's  and  earth's  crea 
tion  ; 

The  due  commander  of  all  spirits'  duetie ; 

The  Deitie  of  angels'  adoration  ; 

The  glorious  substance  of  the  soule' s  saluation  : 
The  light  of  truthe  that  all  perfection  trieth, 
And  life  that  giues  the  life  that  neuer  dieth. 

It  is  the  height  of  God,  and  hate  of  ill, 
Tryumph  of  trueth,  and  falshood's  ouerthrow  ; 
The  onely  worker  of  the  highest  will, 
And  onely  knowledge  that  doeth  knowledge  know, 
And  onely  ground  where  it  doeth  onely  growe  : 
It  is  in  summe  the  substance  of  all  blisse, 
Without  whose  blessing  all  thing  nothing  is. 

But  in  itselfe  itselfe  it  all  containeth, 
And  from  itselfe  but  of  itselfe  it  giueth ; 
It  nothing  loseth,  and  it  nothing  gaineth, 
But  in  the  glorie  of  itselfe  it  liueth, 
A  ioy  which  soone  away  all  sorrow  driueth : 
The  prooued  truth  of  all  perfections'  storie, 
Our  God  incomprehensible  in  glorie. 

Thus  is  it  not  a  riddle  to  be  read, 
And  yet  a  secret  to  be  found  in  reading  ; 
But  when  the  heart  ioynes  issue  with  the  head, 
In  settled  faith  to  seeke  the  Spirit's  feeding, 
While  in  the  woundes,  that  euer  fresh  are  bleeding 
In  Christ  his  side,  the  faithfull  soule  may  see 
In  perfect  life  what  perfect  loue  may  be. 

192        Bin  NICHOLAS  BRETON. 

No  further  seeke  then  for  to  finde  out  loue 
Than  in  the  lines  of  euerliuing  blisse, 
Where  carefull  conscience  may  in  comfort  prooue 
In  sacred  loue  that  heauenly  substance  is, 
That  neuer  guides  the  gracious  minde  amisse  ; 
But  makes  the  soule  to  finde  in  life's  behoue 
What  thing  indeed,  and  nothing  else,  is  loue. 
|   Then  make  no  doubt  if  either  good  or  bad, 
If  this  or  that,  in  substance  or  in  thought, 
And  by  what  meanes  it  may  be  sought  or  had, 
[   Whereof  it  is,  and  how  it  may  be  wrought : 
|    Let  it  suffice  the  word  of  truth  hath  taught : 
It  is  the  grace  but  of  the  liuing  God, 
Before  beginning  that  with  him  abode. 
!    It  brought  forth  power  to  worke,  wisdome  to  will, 
I   Justice  to  iudge,  mercie  to  execute, 
!   Vertue  to  plant,  charitie  to  fill, 
Time  to  direct,  truths  falshood  to  confute, 
Pitie  to  pleade  in  penitence's  suite, 

Patience  to  bide,  and  peace  to  giue  thee  rest, 
To  prooue  how  loue  doth  make  the  spirit  blest. 
And  this  is  God,  and  this  same  God  is  loue, 
For  God  and  loue  in  Charitie  are  one : 
And  Charitie  is  that  same  God  aboue, 
In  whome  doth  Hue  that  onely  loue  alone, 
I   Without  whose  grace  true  loue  is  neuer  none  : 
Then  seeke  no  further  what  is  loue  to  finde, 
But  onely  carie  God  within  thy  minde. 

Leaue  in  the  world  to  looke  for  any  loue  ; 
For  on  the  earth  is  little  faith  to  finde, 
And  faithlesse  hearts  in  too  much  trueth  doe  proue 
Loue  doth  not  liue  where  care  is  so  vnkind : 
Men  in  their  natures  differ  from  their  kinde  : 
Sinne  fils  the  world  so  full  of  secret  euils, 
Men  should  be  gods  to  men,  but  they  are  deuils. 

STANZAS.  193 

Christ  lou'd  to  death,  yet  loue  did  neuer  die ; 
For    loue    by   death   did    worke    the    death   of 

death ! 

Oh  Hiring  loue  !  oh  heauenly  mysterie  ! 
Too  great  a  glory  for  this  world  beneathe, 
The  blessed  breathing  of  the  highest  breathe. 
Blest  are  they  borne  that  onely  finde  in  thee, 
Oh  blessed  God,  what  blessed  loue  may  be  ! 

Amidde  the  skie  there  is  one  onely  sunne  ; 
Amidde  the  ayre  one  onely  phoenix  flies  ; 
One  onely  time  by  which  all  houres  doe  runne  ; 
One  onely  life  that  Hues  and  neuer  dies  ; 
One  onely  eye  that  euerie  thought  descries ; 

One  onely  light  that  shevves  our  onely  loue  ; 

One  onely  loue ;  and  that  is  God  aboue. 

To  say  yet  further  what  this  loue  may  be, 

It  is  a  holy  heauenly  excellence; 

Aboue  the  power  of  any  eye  to  see, 

Or  wit  to  finde  by  world's  experience  : 

It  is  the  spirit  of  life's  quintessence  ; 
Whose  rare  effects  may  partly  be  perceiued, 
But  to  the  full  can  neuer  be  conceiued. 

It  is  repentance'  sweet  restoratiue ; 

The  Rosa  solis  the  sicke  soule  reuiueth  ; 

It  is  the  faithfull  heart's  preseruatiue ; 

It  is  the  hauen  where  happie  grace  arriueth  ; 

It  is  the  life  that  death  of  power  depriueth  : 
It  is,  in  summe,  the  euerlasting  blisse, 
Where  God  alone  in  all  his  glorie  is. 

It  is  a  ioy  that  neuer  comes  in  iest ; 

A  comfort  that  doth  cast  off  euery  care  ; 

A  rule  wherein  the  life  of  life  doth  rest, 

Where  all  the  faithfull  finde  their  happie  fare  ; 

A  good  that  doth  but  onely  God  declare ; 


194        SIB  NICHOLAS  BRETON. 

A  line  that  his  right  hand  doth  draw  so  euen, 
As  leads  the  soule  the  hyway  unto  heauen. 

If  then  henceforth  you  aske  what  thing  is  loue, 
In  light,  in  life,  in  grace,  in  God,  goe  looke  it ; 
And  tf  in  these  you  doe  not  truely  prooue 
How  in  your  hearts  you  may  for  euer  booke  it, 
Vnhappy  thinke  yourselues  you  haue  mistook  it 
For  why  ?  the  life  that  death  hath  ouer-trod 
Is  but  the  loue  of  Grace,  and  that  is  God. 


WHEN  the  angels  all  are  singing 

All  of  glorie  euer  springing 

In  the  ground  of  high  heauen's  graces, 

Where  all  vertues  haue  their  places; 

Oh  that  my  poore  soule  were  neare  them, 
With  an  humble  heart  to  heare  them ! 

Then  should  faith,  in  loue's  submission 
loving  but  in  mercie's  blessing, 
Where  that  sinnes  are  in  remission, 
Sing  the  ioyful  soule' s  confessing; 

Of  her  comforts  high  commending 

All  in  glorie  neuer  ending. 

But,  ah  wretched  sinfull  creature! 

How  should  the  corrupted  nature 

Of  this  wicked  heart  of  mine 

Thinke  vpon  that  loue  diuine, 

That  doth  tune  the  angels'  voices, 
While  the  hoast  of  heauen  reioyces  ? 

No !  the  songe  of  deadly  sorrowe 
In  the  night  that  hath  no  morrow, 

HYMN»  195 

And  their  paines  are  neuer  ended 
That  haue  heauenly  powers  offended, 

Is  more  fitting  to  the  merite 

Of  my  foule  infected  spirit. 

Yet  while  mercie  is  remoouing 
All  the  sorrowes  of  the  louing, 
How  can  faith  be  full  of  blindnesse 
To  despaire  of  mercie's  kindnesse; 
While  the  hand  of  heauen  is  giuing 
Comfort  from  the  euer-liuing? 

No,  my  soule,  be  no  more  sorie; 
Looke  vnto  that  life  of  glorie 
Which  the  grace  of  faith  regardeth, 
And  the  teares  of  loue  rewardeth ; 
Where  the  soule  the  comfort  getteth, 
That  the  angels'  musique  setteth. 

There  when  thou  art  well  conducted, 
And  by  heauenly  grace  instructed 
How  the  faithfull  thoughts  to  fashion 
Of  a  rauisht  louer's  passion, 

Sing  with  sainctes  to  angels  nighest 

Halleluiah  in  the  highest. 

Gloria  in  excelsis  Deo. 


From  "  The  Soules  Harmony." 

LORD,  when  I  thinke  how  I  offend  thy  will, 
And  know  what  good  is  in  obedience  to  it, 
And  see  my  hurt,  and  yet  continue  still 
In  doing  ill,  and  cannot  leaue  to  do  it ; 
And  then  againe  doe  feele  that  bitter  smart 
That  inward  breeds  of  pleasures  after-paine, 
When  scarce  the  thought  is  entred  in  my  heart 




But  it  is  gone,  and  sinne  gets  in  againe: 
And  when  againe  the  act  of  sinne  is  past, 
And  that  thy  grace  doth  call  me  backe  againe, 
Then  in  my  teares  I  runne  to  thee  as  fast, 
And  of  my  sinnes  and  of  myselfe  complayne : 

What  can  I  doe  but  cry,  Sweet  lesus,  saue  me? 

For  I  am  nothing  but  what  thou  wilt  haue  me. 

MY  heauenly  Loue,  from  that  high  throne  of  thine, 
Where  gracious  mercy  sits  in  glorie's  seat, 
In  that  true  pity  of  thy  power  diuine, 
That  dries  the  teares  that  mercy  doe  entreat, 
Behold,  sweet  Lord,  these  bleeding  drops  of  loue 
That  melt  my  soule  in  sorrow  of  my  sinne  ; 
And  let  these  showres  some  drops  of  mercy  moue, 
That  in  my  griefe  my  comfort  may  beginne : 
Let  not  despaire  confound  my  praying  hope, 
That  begs  an  almes  at  thy  mercie's  gate; 
But  let  thy  grace  thy  hand  of  bountie  ope, 
That  comfort  yeelds  which  neuer  comes  too  late: 
That  in  the  cure  of  my  consuming  griefe 
My  ioyful  soule  may  sing  of  thy  reliefe. 




Out  of  the  cxv.  Psalme. 

IP  vnto  vs  poore  mortall  men 

No  prayse  is  due  of  very  ryght, 

How  are  they  mockte  and  blynded  then, 

How  farre  are  they  from  perfect  sight, 

That  to  a  stock e  or  dead  image 
Will  geue  such  laude  as  God  should  haue ! 
How  vayne  is  he,  howe  doth  he  rage, 
That  doth  God's  glorie  so  depraue ! 

The  which  sinne  and  most  vyle  offence 
David  did  so  abhorre  and  hate, 
That  he  a  psalme  in  God's  defence 
Compiled  hath,  that  each  estate 

May  vnderstande  howe  farre  awrye 
They  wandred  be  from  righteousnes, 
The  lyuing  God  that  doe  denye 
By  an  image  or  false  lykenes: 

And  therfore  doth  all  men  exhorte 
To  feare  the  Lorde,  and  in  hym  truste ; 
Which  is  a  true  and  sure  comforte 
To  all  that  in  his  hope  are  iust. 

198  JOHN    HALL,    M.D. 

His  harpe  in  hande  he  therfore  tooke, 
And  on  his  knees  this  noble  kyng 
(As  it  is  in  the  Psalter  booke) 
This  holy  psalme  begun  to  synge: 
Not  vnto  vs,  Lord,  not  to  vs, 

Etc.  etc.  etc.  etc. 


]\Ton  nobis,  Domine. 

NOT  unto  us,  Lord,  not  to  us, 
But  to  thy  holy  name  alwayse, 
For  thy  mercy  and  truthe  done  thus, 
Ascribed  be  all  laude  and  prayse. 
These  heathen  folke  that  faythles  be, 
Why  should  they  saye  to  us  in  spighte, 
Where  is  their  God,  let  us  hym  see, 
In  whom  these  Christians  haue  delyghte  ? 
For  their  false  gods,  their  chiefe  and  best, 
Are  nothing  but  syluer  and  goulde : 
The  handes  of  men,  both  most  and  lest, 
Haue  forged  them  out  of  the  moulde. 
Yet  haue  they  for  their  idols  made 
Mouthes  wherewith  they  can  speak  nothing, 
And  eyes  also  whereof  the  trade 
Is  to  be  blynde  from  all  seyng. 
Suche  eares  also  in  them  are  wrought, 
And  heare  nothing  that  one  can  tell; 
And  noses  whiche  are  likevvyse  nought, 
For  they  with  them  can  nothyng  smell. 
Vayne  handes  haue  they,  and  fete  also ; 
For  with  their  handes  they  handle  not, 
Nor  with  their  fete  they  can  not  goe, 
Nor  sounde  no  voice  out  of  their  throte. 

PSALM    CXV.  199 

Wherefore  suche  as  doe  idols  make, 
Doe  their  own  works  resemble  just; 
And  they  also  that  doe  them  take 
For  gods,  or  haue  them  in  their  truste. 

Let  Israeli,  then,  in  the  Lorde 
Set  all  their  truste  and  confidence ; 
And  Aaron's  house  thereto  accorde; 
For  he  is  their  most  sure  defence. 

All  ye  that  feare  the  Lorde  aright, 
Trust  in  hym  well,  be  not  afrayde; 
For  he  will  surely  shewe  his  myght 
To  succoure  you  and  be  your  ayde. 

The  Lord  will  not  forget  doubtless, 
But  haue  us  in  his  mynde  full  well : 
The  righteous  houses  he  vvyll  bles 
Of  Aaron  and  of  Israeli. 

Ye  that  do  feare  the  Lorde  therefore 
Are  blessed,  both  the  great  and  small : 
The  Lorde  increase  you  more  and  more, 
Both  you  and  eke  your  children  all. 

For  sithe  ye  are  his  chosen  sorte, 
And  haue  the  Lorde  whole  in  your  thought, 
He  wyll  you  blesse  with  greate  comforte, 
Both  heauen  and  earth  that  made  of  nought. 

The  heauens  and  the  firmament 

Are  his,  and  at  his  holy  wyll; 

But  the  rounde  earth  he  hath  forth  lente 

The  sonnes  of  mortal  men  untyll1. 

The  dead,  O  Lorde,  that  are  gone  hence, 
Cannot  in  graue  express  thy  wayes; 
Nor  such  as  downe  are  in  sylence 
Can  honor  thee  or  giue  thee  prayse. 

1  unto. 

200  JOHN    HALL,    M.D. 

But  we,  O  Lorde,  that  be  alyve, 
Thy  prayse  wyll  spreade  and  ramifye, 
And  in  our  hearts  due  thankes  contryve 
Unto  thy  name  eternally. 



From  the  "  Court  of  Venue." 

O  HARKE   a  whyle  vnto  my  style, 

All   ye  that  Christians  be; 
That  beare  that  name,  and  doe  not  frame 

Your  Hues  accordingly. 

Is  fayth  in  syche  as  beying  ryche, 
Though  thee  cloo   Christ  professe, 

That  euery  houre  doo   Christ  deuoure, 
And  his  poore  flocke  oppresse  ? 

For  we  are  all,   as  sayth  Saynt  Paule, 

Membres  of  one  body 
Of  Christ  Jesu,  ground  of  vertue 

And  of  all  veritie  : 

When  the  poore  man,  as  proue  I  can, 

Is  Christ  his  member  true, 
As  well  as  he,  what  so  he  be, 

That  ryches  so  endue. 

Why  should  ye  then   to  symple  men 

Beare  such  despight  and  hate, 
Syth  they  be  all  in  Christ  equall 

With  you  in  all  estate? 

Christ  his  kyngdome  was  neuer  wonne 

By  wealth  or  hygh  degree, 
Allthough  that  here  some  doo  appere 

To  reygne  in  dignitie. 


Then  let  none  thynke  that  Christ  wyll  shrynke, 

When  he  shall  iudge  us  all, 
Of  all  your  wealth,  so  got  by  stelthe, 

You  to  accompt  to  call : 

When  yf  he  fynde  ye  were  unkynde 

To  your  poore  brethern  dere, 
Then  wyll  he  say,  Goo  from  me  aye 

Into  eternall  fyre. 

When  I  lackt  meate,  and  fayne  would  eate, 

In  sycknes,  thyrst,  and  colde, 
In  all  my  nede  not  one  good  dede 

That  you  to  me  doo  wold. 

Then  wyll  ye  say  wythout  delay, 

Lord,  when  dyd  we  thee  see 
Lacke  any  foode  to  doo  thee  good, 

And  dyd  it  not  to  thee? 

And  he  agayne  shall  answer  playne, 

I  truely  say  to  you, 
Ye  styll  oppreste  and  muche  detest 

The  poore,  my  members  true. 

When  ye  therfore  did  them  abhorre 

That  are  of  lowe  degree, 
To  me  alone,  and  other  none, 

Ye  did  that  iniury. 

Saint  John  doth  prone  we  cannot  loue 

God  whom  we  doe  not  see, 
If  we  doe  hate  our  brethren  that 

Are  present  to  our  eye. 

Nowe  call  for  grace,  whyle  ye  haue  space; 

Your  wycked  lyues  amende; 
And  so  precede  in  worde  and  dede 

True  Christians  to  the  ende. 

202  JOHN    HALL,    M.D. 




HEREOUT,  O  Lorde,  the  right  request 
Of  him,  that  faine  would  haue  redrest 
The  wronges  that  are  so  sore  increst 
Within  my  soule,  so  sore  opprest. 

0  Lorde,  to  thee  with  vvofull  crye 

1  call  for  grace  and  for  mercy; 
And  if  thou  helpe  not  then  truly, 
In  deadly  wo  remayn  must  I. 

The  world,  the  diuell,  death,  and  hell, 
With  great  assaultes  against  me  swell: 
Lorde,  let  thy  grace  in  me  excell 
Against  their  fury  fierce  and  fell. 
O   Lorde  my  God,  to  thee  I  praye, 
Suffer  me  not  to  goe  astraye, 
And  haue  in  mynde  the  pryce  and  day 
Wherewith  thou  didste  my  ransome  pay. 

Oh  haue  in  mynde  thine  own  great  cost, 
And  let  not  this  thy  payne  be  lost : 
In  thee,   O  Lorde,  my  trust  is  most 
To  dwell  among  thy  holy  host. 

Thou  knovvst  wherin  my  help  doth  stand, 
Whereuer  I  be  on  sea  or  lande : 
Good  Lorde,  put  to  thy  helping  hand, 
Saue  me  from  hell,  that  fierce  fyrebrand. 



Motto  :  Te  stante  virebo. 
A  MIGHTIE  spyre,  whose  toppe  dothe  pierce  the 


An  iuie  greene  imbraceth  rounde  about; 
And  while  it  standes,  the  same  doth  bloom  on 


But  when  it  shrinkes,  the  iuie  standes  in  dowt. 
The  piller  great  our  gratious  princes  is ; 
The  braunche  the  churche,  whoe  speakes  vnto 
hir  this : 

"  I  that  of  late  with  stormes  was  almoste  spent, 
And  brused  sore  with  tirants'  bluddie  bloes, 
Whome  fire  and  sworde  with  persecution  rent, 
Am  nowe  sett  free,  and  ouerlooke  my  foes  ; 

And  whiles  thou  raignst,  oh  most  renowmed 
queene ! 

By  thie  supporte  my  blossome  shall  be  greene." 


Motto :    Veritas  temporis  filia. 
THREE  furies  fell,  which  turne  the  world  to  ruthe, 
Both  Enuie,  Strife,  and  Slaunder,  heare  appeare  : 
In  dungeon  darke  they  longe  inclosed  Truthe ; 
But  Time  at  lengthe  did  loose  his  daughter  deare, 
And  setts  alofte  that  sacred  ladie  brighte, 
Which  things  longe  hidd  reueales  and  bringes 
to  lighte. 


Thoughe  Strife  make  fier,   thoughe   Enuie  eate 

hir  harte, 

The  innocent  though  Slaunder  rente  and  spoile; 
Yet  Time  will  comme,  and  take  this  ladie's  parte, 
And  breake  her  bandes,  and  bring  her  foes  to 

Dispaire  not  then,  thoughe  Truthe  be  hidden 

Bycause  at  lengthe  shee  shall  bee  sett  alofte. 


Motto  :    Non  tlbi,  sed  religioni. 

THE  pastors  good,  that  doe  gladd  tidinges  preache, 
The  godlie  sorte  with  reuerence  doo  imbrace  : 
Though  they  be  men,  yet  since  Godd's  worde  they 

teach e, 

Wee  honor  them,  and  giue  them  higheste  place: 
Imbassadors  of  princes  of  the  earthe 
Haue  royall  seates,  thoughe  base  they  are  by 

Yet  if  throwghe  pride  they  doe  themselves  forgett, 
And  make  accompte  that  honor  to  be  theires, 
And  doe  not  marke  within  whose  place  they  sett, 
Let  them  behowlde  the  asse  that  Isis  beares, 

Whoe   thowghte  the  men  to  honor  him  did 

And  staied  therfore  till  he  the  staffe  did  feele. 

For  as  he  passd  with  Isis  throughe  the  streete, 
And  bare  on  backe  his  holie  rites  about, 
The  ^Egyptians  downe  fell  prostrate  at  his  feete, 
Whereat  the  asse  grew  arrogante  and  stowte : 
Then  saide  the  guide,  Oh  foole !  not  vnto  thee 
Theise  people  bowe,  but  vnto  that  they  see. 

EMBLEM    IV.    V.  205 


Motto :    Qua  dij  vacant,  eundum. 

THE  trauaylinge  man  vncertain  where  to  goe 
When  diuers  vvayes  before  his  face  did  lie, 
Mercurius  then  the  perfect  pathe  did  showe ; 
Which  when  he  tooke,  hee  neuer  went  awrie, 
But  to  his  wishe  his  iorney's  ende  did  gaine, 
In  happie  howre,  by  his  direction  plaine. 

This  trauailinge  man  doth  tell  our  wandringe  state, 
Before  whose  face  and  eeke  on  euerye  side, 
By-pathes  and  wayes  appeare  amidd  our  gate, 
That  if  the  Lorde  be  not  our  onlie  guide, 
We  stumble,  fall,  and  dailie  goe  astraye : 
Then  happie  those  whome  God  doth  shew  the 


Motto:   Prouidentia. 

SVCHE  prouidence  hath  nature  secret  wroughte 
In  creatures  wilde,  and  eeke  such  knowledge 

That  man  by  them  in  somme  thinges  maie  be 

taughte : 

As  some  foretell  when  weather  faire  will  chaunge  ; 
Of  heate,  of  raine,  of  winde,  and  tempests'  rage, 
Some  showe  by  signes,  and  with  their  songs 

But  leauing  theise,  which  almost  all  doe  knowe ; 
The  crocodile,  by  whome  th'  Egyptians  watche' 
Howe  farre  that  yeare  shall  mightie  Nilus  flowe, 
For  theire  shee  likes  to  laie  her  egges  and  hatche  : 
Such  skill  deuine,  and  science  to  foretell, 
Hath  nature  lente  vnto  this  serpent  fell. 



Which  showes  they  should  with  due  regarde 


When  anie  one  doth  take  in  hande  a  cause, 
The  drifte  and  ende  of  that  they  doe  decree, 
And  longe  thereon  to  ponder  and  to  pause  : 
For  after-vvitts  are  like  a  shower  of  rayne, 
Which  moistes  the  soile  when  witherd  is  the 


Motto:  Constanter. 

THE  raging  sea,  that  roares  with  fearefull  sounde, 
And  threatneth  all  the  world  to  ouerflowe, 
The  shore  sometimes  his  billows  doth  rebounde, 
Though  oft  it  winnes,  and   giues  the   earthe  a 

blowe : 
Sometimes  where  shippes  did  saile,  it  makes  a 

lande ; 

Sometimes  again  they  saile  where  townes  did 

So  if  the  Lorde  did  not  his  rage  restraine, 
And  set  his  boundes  so  that  it  cannot  passe, 
The  worlde  should  faile,and  man  could  not  remaine, 
But  all  that  is  shoulde  soone  be  turn'd  to  was. 

By  raging  Sea  is  ment  our  ghostlie  foe ; 

By  Earthe,  man's  soule  he  seekes  to  ouerthrowe. 

And  as  the  surge  doth  worke  both  daie  and  nighte, 
And  shakes  the  shore,  and  ragged  rockes  doth 

rente  ; 

So  Sathan  stirres  with  all  his  maine  and  mighte 
Continuall  siege  our  soules  to  circumuente : 
Then  watche  and  praie  for  feare  we  sleepe  in 

sinne  ; 
For  cease  our  crime,  and  hee  can  nothing  winne. 

EMBLEM   VII.  VIII.   IX.  207 


Motto:   Veritas  invicta. 

THOUGHE  Sathan  striue  with  all  his  maine  and 

To  hide  the  truthe,  and  dimme  the  lawe  deuine  ; 

Yet  to  his  worde  the  Lorde  doth  giue  such  lighte, 

That  to  the  East  and  West  the  same  doth  shine  : 
And  those  that  are  so  happie  for  to  looke, 
Saluation  finde  within  that  blessed  booke. 


Motto  :  Omnis  caro  foenum. 
ALL  fleshe  is  grasse,  and  witherth  like  the  haie : 
To-daie  man  laughes,  to-morrowe  lies  in  claie. 
Then  let  him  marke  the  frailtie  of  his  kinde, 
For  here  his  tearme  is  like  a  puffe  of  winde  ; 
Like  bubbles  smalle  that  on  the  waters  rise ; 
Or  like  the  flowers  whom  Flora  freshlie  dies, 
Yet  in  one  daie  their  glorie  all  is  gone  ; 
So  worldlie  pompe  which  here  we  gaze  vppon  : 
Which  warneth  all  that  here  their  pageantes  plaie, 
Howe  well  to  liue,  but  not  how  long  to  waie. 


Motto:  Sic  probantur.    Matt.  xxiv. 
THROUGHE  tormentes  straunge  and  persecutions 


The  Christians  passe  with  pacience  in  their  paine, 
And  ende  their  course  sometime  with  sworde  and 


And  constant  stand,  and  like  to  lambes  are  slaine  : 
Bycause,  when  all  their  martirdome  is  past, 
They  hope  to  gaine  a  glorious  crowne  at  last. 



Motto :  Soli  Deo  Gloria. 

HERE  man  with  axe  doth  cut  the  bough  in  Uvaine, 
And  without  him  the  axe  could  nothing  doe ; 
Within  the  toole  there  doth  no  force  remaine, 
But  man  it  is  that  mighte  doth  put  thereto : 
Like  to  this  axe  is  man  in  all  his  deedes, 
Who  hath  no  strength   but   what   from   God 

Then  let  him  not  make  vaunt  of  his  desert, 

Nor  bragge  thereof  when  he  good  deedes  hath 

done  ; 

For  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  his  harte, 
And  with  his  grace  to  good  doth  make  him  ronne . 
And  of  himselfe  hee  weake  theretoo  doth  Hue, 
And  God  giues  power,  to  whom  all  glorie  giue. 


Motto :  Nemo  potest  duobus  dominis  seruire. 

HERE  man,  who  first  should  heauenlie  thinges 


And  then  to  world  his  sences  should  incline, 
First  vndergoes  the  worlde  with  might  and  maine, 
And  then  at  foote  doth  drawe  the  lawes  deuine  : 
Thus   God   hee  beares   and   Mammon  in   his 

But  Mammon  first,  and  God  doth  come  behinde. 

Oh  worldlinges  fonde,  that  ioyne  these  two  so  ill, 
The  league  is  nought,  throwe  doune  the  world 

with  speede : 

Take  vp  the  lawe,  according  to  his  will; 
First  seeke  for  heauen,  and  then  for  worldly  neede : 

EMBLEM    XII.  209 

But  those  that  first  their  worldlie  vvishe  doe 

Their  gaine  is  losse,  and  seeke  their  soules  to 



Motto :  Superest  quod  supra  est. 
ADVE,  deceiptfull  worlde,  thy  pleasures  I  detest ; 
Nowe  others  with  thy  showes  delude;   my  hope 
in  heauen  doth  rest. 

Inlarged  as  followeth. 

Even  as  a  flower,  or  like  vnto  the  grasse, 
Which  now  dothe  stande,  and  straight  with  sithe 


So  is  our  state  :  now  here,  now  hence  we  passe2 : 
For  Time  attendes  with  shredding  sithe  for  all, 

And  Deathe  at  lengthe  both  oulde  and  yonge 
doth  strike3, 

And  into  dust  dothe  turne  vs  all  alike. 
Yet,  if  wee  marke  how  swifte  our  race  dothe  ronne, 
And  waighe  the  cause,  why  wee  created  bee  ; 
Then  shall  wee  know,  when  that  this  life  is  donne, 
Wee  shall  bee  sure  our  countrie  right  to  see. 

For  here  wee  arebut  straungers,  that  mustflitte4: 

The  nearer  home,  the  nearer  to  the  pitte. 
0  happie  they,  that  pondering  this  arighte, 
Before  that  here  their  pilgrimage  bee  past, 
Resigne  this  worlde,    and  marche  with  all  their 


Within  that  pathe  that  leades  where  ioyes  shall 
last6 : 

1  James  i.  2  Eccles.  xiv.  3  Isai.  xl. 

4  2  Cor.  v.  5  John  xiv. 

[F.LIZ.  POETS.]  14 


And  whilst  they  maye,  there  treasure  vp  their 

Where,  without  rust,  it  lastes  for  euermore. 

This  worlde  must  chaimge :  that  worlde  shall  still 

Here   pleasures  fade;   there   shall  they  endlesse 

Here  man  doth  sinne;  and  there  hee   shal  bee 

Here  deathe  hee  tastes;    and  there  shall  neuer 

Here  hath  hee  griefe;    and  there  shall  ioyes 

As  none  hath  seene,  nor  anie  harte  can  gesse6. 

1  Matt.  vi.  2  Rev.  vi.  a  Ib.  xxi. 

4  I  Cor.  xv.  5  Rev.  xxi.  6  1  Cor.  ii. 



ON   THE    SEAES    IN    A    TEMPEST. 

HASTE  homewardes,  man;    draw  neerer  to  the 

shore  : 

The  skies  doe  scowle,  the  windes  doe  blow  amaine ;    j 
The  raged  rockes  with  rumbling  noyse  doe  rore, 
The  foggie  clowdes  doe  threaten  stormes  of  raine : 
Ech  thing  foreshowes  a  tempest  is  at  hand ; 
Hoyst  up  thy  sayles,  and  haste  to  happy  land. 
In  worldly  seaes  thy  silly  ship  is  tost, 
With  waues  of  woe  besette  on  euery  side, 
Blowne  heere  and  there  in  daunger  to  bee  lost : 
Darke  clowdes  of  sinne  doe  cause  thee  wander   | 

wide  : 

Unlesse  thy  God  pitie  some  on  thee  take, 
On  rockes  of  rueth  thou  needes  must  shipwrack 


Cut  downe  the  mast  of  rancour  and  debate ; 
Unfraight  the  shippe  of  all  vnlawfull  wares  ; 
Cast  ouerboorde  the  packes  of  hoorded  hate  ; 
Pumpe  out  fowle  vice,  the  cause  of  many  cares ; 
If  that  some  leeke  it  make  thee  stand  in  doubt, 
Repentaunce  serues  to  stoppe  the  water  out. 

Let  God's  pure  word  thy  line  and  compasse  bee  ; 
And  stedfast  fayth  vse  thou  in  anckor's  steede  : 
Lament  thy  sinnes ;  then  shalt  thou  shortly  see 
That  power  diuine  will  helpe  thee  forth  at"  neede. 


Fell  Sathan  is  chiefe  rular  of  these  seaes — 
Hee  seekes  our  vvracke ;  hee  doth  these  tempestes 

In  what  wee  may,  let  vs  alwayes  represse 

The  furious  waues  of  lust  and  fond  desire  : 

A  quiet  calme  our  conscience  shall  possesse, 

If  wee  doe  that  which  dutie  doeth  require  : 

By  godly  life  in  fine  obtaine  wee  shall 

The  porte  of  blisse ;  to  which  God  send  vs  all ! 


IF  all  the  ioyes  that  worldly  wightes  posesse 
Were   throughly   scand,    and    pondred   in   their 


No  man  of  wit  but  iustly  must  confesse 
That  they  ioy  most  that  haue  contented  mindes ; 
And  other  ioyes,  which  beare  the  name  of  ioyes, 
Are  not  right  ioyes,  but  sunneshines  of  anoyes. 

In  outward  view  we  see  a  number  glad, 
Which  make  a  shew  as  if  mirth  did  abound, 
When  pinching  grief  within  doth  make  them  sad  : 
And  many  a  one  in  these  dayes  may  bee  found, 
Which  faintly  smile  to  shroud  their  sorowes  so, 
When  oftentimes  they  pine  in  secreet  woe. 

But  euery  man  that  holdes  himselfe  content, 
And  yeeldes  God  thankes,  as  dutie  doth  require, 
For  all  his  giftes  that  hee  to  vs  hath  sent, 
And  is  not  vext  with  ouer  great  desire : 
And  such,  I  say,  most  quietly  doe  sleepe, 
When  fretting  cares  doth  others  waking  keepe. 

What  doth  auaile  huge  heapes  of  shining  golde, 
Or  gay  attyre,  or  stately  buildinges  braue, 

IN    PRAISE    OF    THE     CONTENTED    MINDE.    213 

If  worldly  pelfe  thy  heart  in  bondage  holde  ? 
Not  thou  thy   goodes — thy    goodes   make  thee 

their  slaue. 

For  greedie  men  like  Tantalus  doe  fare — 
In  midst  of  wealth  they  needie  are  and  bare. 

A  warie  heede  that  thinges  go  not  to  losse 
Doth  not  amisse,  so  that  it  keepe  the  meane  : 
But  still  to  toyle  and  moyle  for  worldly  drosse, 
And  tast  no  ioy  nor  pleasure  for  our  paine  ; 
In  carke  and  care  both  day  and  night  to  dwell, 
Is  nothing  els  but  euen  a  very  hell. 

Wherefore,  I  say,  as  erst  I  did  beginne, 
Contented  men  enioy  the  greatest  blisse  : 
Let  vs  content  ourselues  to  flye  from  sinne, 
And  still  abide  what  God's  good  pleasure  is. 
If  ioy  or  paine,  if  wealth  or  want  befall, 
Let  vs  bee  pleasde,  and  giue  God  thankes  for  all. 


As  I  lay  musing  in  my  bed 

A  heape  of  fancies  came  in  head, 

Which  greatly  did  molest  mee; 
Such  sundry  thoughtes  of  ioy  and  paine 
Did  meete  within  my  pondring  braine, 

That  nothing  could  I  rest  mee. 
Sometimes  I  felt  exceeding  ioy, 
Sometimes  the  torment  of  annoy  : 
Euen  now  I  laugh,  euen  now  I  weepe, 
Euen  now  a  slumber  made  mee  sleepe. 
Thus  did  I  with  thoughtes  of  straunge  deuice 
Lye  musing  alone  in  pensiue  wise: 
I  knew  not  what  meanes  might  health  procure, 
Nor  finish  the  toyle  I  did  indure; 


And  still  I  lay,  and  found  no  way 
That  best  could  make  my  cares  decay. 

Reuoluing  these  thinges  in  my  minde, 
Of  wretched  world  the  fancies  blinde 

Alone  awhile  I  ponder  : 
Which  when  I  hacl  perused  well, 
And  saw  no  vertue  there  to  dwell, 

It  made  me  greatly  wonder. 
Is  this  that  goodly  thing,  thought  I, 
That  all  men  loue  so  earnestly  '! 
Is  this  the  fruit  that  it  doth  yeelde, 
Whereby  wee  all  are  so  beguilde? 
Ah!  Jesus,  how  then  my  heart  did  rue 
Because  I  had  folowed  them  as  true! 
Alas!  wee  haue  lost  the  heauenly  ioyes, 
And  haue  beene  deceaued  with  worldly  toyes, 
Whose  fancies  vaine  will  breede  vs  paine, 
If  Christ  doe  not  restore  againe. 

O  wretched  man  !  leaue  off  therefore,  — 
In  worldly  thinges  put  trust  no  more, 

Which  yeeldes  nothing  but  sorow  : 
To  God  thy  Lord  with  speede  conuert, 
Because  thou  most  vncertain  art 

If  thou  shalt  Hue  to-morow. 
Leaue  of  to  quaff'e,  to  daunce  and  play  ; 
Remember  still  the  iudgment-day  : 
Repent,  relent,  and  call  for  grace, 
For  pardon  aske  whilst  thou  hast  space. 
Who  doeth  from  his  heart  repentaunce  craue, 
Forgiuenes,  saieth  Christ,  of  mee  shall  haue. 
Hee  will  not  the  death  of  a  sinner  giue, 
But  rather  he  should  repent  and  Hue. 
Still  laud  the  Lord;  peruse  his  word, 
And  let  thy  deedes  with  it  accord. 

A    LESSON    FOR    ALL    ESTATES.  215 


HAST  thou  desire  thy  golden  dayes  to  spend 
In  blissfull  state  exempt  from  all  annoyes  ? 
So  Hue  as  if  death  now  thy  life  should  end  ; 
Still  treade  the  pathes  that  leade  to  perfect  ioyes. 
Bee  slow  to  shine,  but  speedie  to  ask  grace : 
How  are  they  blest  that  thus  runne  out  their  race ! 

Ech  night,  ere  sleepe  shut  vp  thy  drowsie  eyes, 
Thinke  thou  how  much  in  day  thou  hast  transgrest, 
And  pardon  craue  of  God  in  any  wise, 
To  doe  that's  good,  and  to  forsake  the  rest. 
Sinne  thus  shake  of ;  the  fiend  for  enuie  weepes, 
Sound  are  our  ioyes,  most  quiet  are  our  sleepes. 

Haue  not  thy  head  so  cloyd  with  worldly  cares, 
As  to  neglect  that  thou  shouldst  chiefly  minde ; 
But  beare  an  eye  to  Sathan's  wily  snares, 
Who  to  beguile  a  thousand  shiftes  will  finde. 
Vaine  are  the  ioyes  that  wretched  world  allowes  : 
Who  trust  them  most  doe  trust  but  rotten  bowes. 

Shunne  filthy  vice ;  persist  in  doing  well ; 
For  doing  well  doth  godly  life  procure  ; 
And  godly  life  makes  vs  with  Christ  to  dwell 
In  endlesse  blisse  that  euer  shall  endure. 
Wee  pray  thee,  Lord,  our  follyes  to  redresse, 
That  we  thus  doe,  thus  Hue,  this  blisse  possesse. 


LIKE  as  the  wight,  farre  banished  from  his  soyle, 
In  countrey  strange,  opprest  with  grief  and  paine, 
Doth  nothing  way  his  long  and  weary  toyle, 
So  that  he  may  come  to  his  home  again e  ; 
And  not  accounts  of  perils  great  at  hand, 
For  to  attayne  his  owne  desired  land  : 



Such  is  the  state  of  vs  thy  seruantes  all, 

Most  gratious  God,  that  here  on  earth  do  dwell : 

We  banisht  were  through  Adam's  cursed  fall 

From  place  of  blisse  euen  to  the  pit  of  hell : 

Our  vice  and  sinnes  as  markes  andsignes  wee  haue. 

Which  still  we  beare,  and  shal  doe  to  our  graue. 

When  that  all  hope  of  remedy  was  past, 

For  our  redresse  when  nothing  could  be  founde, 

Thine  onely  Sonne  thou  didst  send  downe  at  last 

To  salue  this  sore,  and  heale  our  deadly  wounde : 

Yet  did  they  please  to  vse  him  as  a  meane 

Us  banisht  wights  for  to  call  home  agayne. 

And  for  because  thy  Godhead  thought  it  meete, 
The  sacred  booke  of  thy  most  holy  will 
Thou  didst  vs  leaue  a  lanterne  to  our  feete, 
To  light  our  steppes  in  this  our  voyage  still, 
Directing  vs  what  to  eschew  or  take  : 
All  this  thou  doest  for  vs  vile  sinners'  sake. 

Graunt  vs  sound  fayth,  that  we  take  stedfast  holde 
On  Christ  his  death,  which  did  our  raunsome  pay; 
So  shall  we  shun  the  daungers  manifold 
Which  would  vs  let,  and  cause  vs  run  astray : 
The  wicked  world,  the  flesh,  the  diuell,  and  all, 
Are  stumbling-blockes,  ech  howre  to  make  vs  fall. 

This  dungeon  vile  of  Sathan  is  the  nest, 
A  denne  of  dole,  a  sinke  of  deadly  sinne. 
Heauen  is  the  hauen  in  which  we  hope  to  rest ; 
Death  is  the  dore  whereby  we  enter  in. 
Sweete  Sauiour,  graunt  that  so  wee  Hue  to  die, 
That  after  death  we  Hue  eternally. 

THE    COMPLAINT    OF    A    SINNER.         217 


LIKE  as  the  theefe  in  prison  cast 

With  wofull  wayling  mones, 
When  hope  of  pardon  cleane  is  past, 

And  sighes  with  dolefull  grones : 
So  I  a  slaue  to  sinne, 

With  sobs  and  many  a  feare, 
As  one,  without  thine  ayde,  forlorne, 

Before  thy  throne  appeare. 

0  Lorde,  in  rage  of  wanton  youth 
My  follies  did  abounde, 

And  eke  since  that  I  knewe  thy  trueth 
My  life  hath  beene  vnsound : 

Alas  !  I  do  confesse, 
I  see  the  perfect  way, 

Yet  frayltie  of  my  feeble  fleshe 
Doth  make  me  run  astray. 

Aye  me,  when  that  some  good  desire, 
Woulde  moue  me  to  doe  wel, 

Affections  fond  make  mee  retire, 
And  cause  me  to  rebell. 

1  wake,  yet  am  asleepe ; 

I  see,  yet  still  am  blinde; 
In  ill  I  runne  with  hedlong  race ; 
In  good  I  come  behinde. 

Loe,  thus  in  life  I  daily  die, 

And  dying  shall  not  liue ; 
Unlesse  thy  mercy  speedily 

Some  succour  to  me  geue. 
I  die,  O  Lorde,  I  die! 

If  thou  doe  mee  forsake, 
I  shall  be  likened  vnto  those 

That  fall  into  the  lake. 


When  that  one  prop  or  onely  stay 

Holdes  vp  some  house  or  wall, 
If  that  the  prop  be  tane  away, 

Needes  must  the  building  fall: 
O  Lorde,  thou  art  the  prop 

To  which  I  cleaue  and  leane : 
If  thou  forsake  or  cast  mee  of, 

I  still  shall  Hue  in  paine. 

Although  my  hard  and  stony  hart 

Be  apt  to  runne  astray, 
Yet  let  thy  goodnesse  mee  conuert, 

So  shall  I  not  decay : 
Sweete  God,  doe  rue  my  plaints, 

And  sheelde  me  from  annoy : 
Then  my  poore  soule,  this  life  once  past, 

Shall  rest  with  thee  in  iov. 


LAYD  in  my  quiet  bed  to  rest, 
When  sleepe  my  senses  all  had  drownd, 
Such  dreames  arose  within  my  breast, 
As  did  with  feare  my  minde  confound. 

Meethought  I  wandred  in  a  woode, 
Which  was  as  darke  as  pitte  of  hell ; 
In  midst  of  which  such  waters  stoode. 
That  where  to  passe  I  could  not  tell. 

The  lion,  tyger,  wolfe,  and  beare, 
There  thundered  forth  such  hideous  cries, 
As  made  huge  eccoes  in  the  aire, 
And  seemed  almost  to  pearce  the  skies. 

A    DREAM.  219 

Long  vext  with  care  I  there  aboad, 
And  to  get  forth  I  wanted  power : 
At  euery  footstepe  that  I  troad, 
I  feard  some  beast  would  mee  deuoure. 

Abyding  thus,  perplext  with  paine, 
This  case  within  myselfe  I  scand, 
That  humaine  helpe  was  all  in  vaine, 
Unlesse  the  Lord  with  vs  doe  stand. 

Then  falling  flatte  vpon  my  face, 
In  humble  sorte  to  God  I  prayde, 
That  in  this  darke  and  dreadfull  place 
He  would  vouchsafe  to  bee  mine  ayde. 

Arising,  then  a  wight  with  winges, 
Of  auncient  yeeres,  meethinkes  I  see; 
A  burning  torch  in  hand  hee  bringes, 
And  thus  beganne  to  speake  to  me : 

"  That  God  whose  ayd  thou  didst  implore, 
Hath  sent  mee  hither  for  thy  sake; 
Pluck  vp  thy  sprites,  lament  no  more, 
With  mee  thou  must  thy  iourney  take." 

Against  a  huge  and  loftie  hill 
With  swiftest  pace  meethinks  wee  go, 
When  such  a  sound  mine  eare  did  fill, 
As  moued  my  heart  to  bleede  for  woe. 

Meethought  I  heard  a  woefull  wight 
In  dolefull  sorte  powre  forth  great  plaintes, 
Whose  cries  did  so  my  minde  affright, 
That  euen  with  feare  each  member  faintes. 

"Fie!"  quoth  my  guyd,  "what  meanes  this 

change  ? 

Passe  on  apace  with  courage  bolde  : 
Hereby  doth  stand  a  prison  strange, 
Where  wonderous  thinges  thou  maiest  beholde." 



Then  came  we  to  a  forte  of  brasse, 

Where,  peering  through  greate  iron  gates, 

We  saw  a  woman  sit,  alas! 

Which  ruthfully  bewaylde  her  fates. 

Her  face  was  farre  more  white  then  snow, 

And  on  her  head  a  crowne  shee  ware, 

Beset  with  stones,  that  glistered  so 

As  hundred  torches  had  bene  there. 

Her  song  was — "Woe!  and  weale  away! 

What  torments  here  doe  I  sustayne !" 

—  A  new  mishap  did  her  dismay, 

Which  more  and  more  increast  her  payne. 

An  oggly  creature,  all  in  blacke, 
Ran  to  her  seate,  and  flung  her  downe: 
Who  rent  her  garments  from  her  backe, 
And  spoyld  her  of  her  precious  crowne. 

This  crowne  he  plaste  vpon  his  hed, 
And  leauing  her  in  dolefull  case, 
With  swiftest  pace  away  he  fled, 
And  darknesse  came  in  all  the  place. 
*         #         *         #         *          * 

Then  quoth  my  guyd:  "Note  well  my  talke, 
And  thou  shalt  heare  this  dreame  declarde : 
The  wood,  in  which  thou  first  didst  walke, 
Unto  the  worlde  may  be  comparde. 

The  roaring  beasts  plainly  expresse 
The  sundry  snares  in  which  we  fall : 
This  gaole  is  named  Deepe  Distresse, 
In  which  dame  Virtue  lies  as  thrall. 

She  is  the  wight,  which  heere  within 
So  dolefully  doth  houle  and  crie : 
Her  foe  is  called  Deadly  Sinne, 
That  proffered  here  this  villainie. 

A    DREAM.  221 

My  name  is  Time,  whom  God  hath  sent 
To  warne  thee  of  thy  soule's  decay  : 
In  time  therefore  thy  sinnes  lament, 
Least  Time  from  thee  be  tane  away." 

As  soone  as  he  these  wordes  had  sayd, 
With  swiftest  pace  away  he  flies; 
And  I  thereat  was  so  afrayde, 
That  drowsie  sleepe  forsooke  mine  eyes. 



O  LORD,  who   in  thy  sacred  tent 

And  holy  hill  shall  dwell? 
Euen  he  that  both  in  heart  and  minde 

Dooth  studie  to  do  well. 

In  life  vpright,  in  dealing  iust, 

And  he  that  from  his  heart 
The  truth  doth  speak  with  singlenes. 

All  falshood  set  apart. 

With  tongue  besides  that  hurts  no  man, 

By  false  and  ill  report ; 
Nor  friends  nor  neighbours  harme  will  doe 

Whereuer  he  resort. 

That  hates  the  bad,  and  loues  the  good, 
And  faith  that  neuer  breakes  ; 

But  keepes  alwaies,  though  to  his  losse, 
The  woord  that  once  he  speakes. 

Nor  filthy  gaine  by  loue  that  seekes, 

Nor  wealth  so  to  possesse ; 
Nor  that  for  bribes  the  guiltlesse  soule 

Doth  labour  to  oppresse. 

Like  as  a  mount,  so  shall  he  stand : 

Nothing  shall  him  remoue, 
That  thus  shall  do,  the  Lord  hath  said ; 

Nor  man  can  it  disproue. 

PSALM    XIII.  223 


0  LORD,  how  long  wilt  thou  forget 

To  send  mee  some  reliefe? 
For  euer  wilt  thou  hide  thy  face, 

And  so  increase  my  griefe? 

How  long  shall  I,  with  waxed  heart, 
Seeke  councell  in  my  sprite  ? 

How  long  shall  my  malicious  foes 
Triumph,  and  me  despite  ? 

0  Lord,  my  God,  heare  my  complaint, 
Vttered  with  wofull  breath; 

Lighten  mine  eies ;  defend  my  life, 
That  I  sleep  not  in  death  : 

Least  that  mine  enemie  say,  I  haue 
Against  him,  loe,  preuayled: 

At  my  downefall  they  will  reioyce, 
That  thus  haue  me  assayl'd. 

But  in  thy  mercie,  Lord,  I  trust, 

For  that  shall  mee  defend : 
My  hart  doth  ioy  to  see  the  help 

Which  thou  to  mee  wilt  send. 

Vnto  the  Lord,  therefore,  I  sing, 

And  doe  lift  vp  my  voyce ; 
And  for  his  goodnesse  shew'd  to  mee 

I  will  alway  reioyce. 


CARE  for  thy  soule  as  thing  of  greatest  price, 
Made  to  the  end  to  tast  of  powre  deuine, 
Deuoide  of  guilt,  abhorring  sinne  and  vice, 
Apt  by  God's  grace  to  vertue  to  incline : 

224  WILLIAM    BYRB. 

Care  for  it  so,  as  by  thy  retchless  traine 
It  not  be  brought  to  tast  etemall  paine. 

Care  for  thy  corps,  but  chiefly  for  soule's  sake  ; 
Cut  off  excesse ;  susteining  food  is  best  ; 
To  vanquish  pride,  but  comely  clothing  take  ; 
Seeke  after  skill ;  deepe  ignorance  detest : 
Care  so,  I  say,  the  flesh  to  feed  and  cloth, 
That  thou  harme  not  thy  soule  and  bodie  both. 

Care  for  the  world  to  do  thy  bodie  right  ; 
Racke  not  thy  wit  to  winne  by  wicked  waies ; 
Seeke  not  to  oppresse  the  weake  by  wrongfull 

might ; 

To  pay  thy  dew  do  banish  all  delayes : 
Care  to  dispend  according  to  thy  store, 
And  in  like  sort  be  mindfull  of  the  poore. 

Care  for  thy  soule,  as  for  thy  chiefest  stay ; 
Care  for  thy  bodie,  for  the  soule's  auaile  ; 
Care  for  the  world,  for  bodie' s  help  alway  ; 
Care,  yet  but  so  as  vertue  may  preuaile : 
Care  in  such  sort  that  thou  be  sure  of  this, — 
Care  keep  thee  not  from  heauen  and  heauenly 


How  do  I  vse  my  paper,  ink,  and  pen, 
And  call  my  wits  to  counsel  what  to  say  ! 
Such  memories  were  made  for  mortall  men — 
I  speak  of  saintes,  whose  names  cannot  decaye : 
An  angel's  trump  were  fitter  for  to  sound 
Their  glorious  death,  if  such  on  earth  were  found. 

That  store  of  such  were  once  on  earth  pursu'd, 
The  histories  of  auncient  times  record, 

THE    MARTYRS.  225 

Whose  constancie  great  tirants'  rage  subdued, 
Through  patient  death  professing    Christ   their 


As  his  apostles  perfect  witnesse  here, 
With  many  more  that  blessed  martirs  were : 

Whose  patience  rare  and  most  couragious  mincle, 

With  fame  renoun'd,  perpetuall  shall  endure  ; 

By  whose  examples  we  may  rightly  finde 

Of  holie  life  and  death  a  patterne  pure. 

That  we,  therefore,  their  vertues  may  embrace, 

Pray  we  to  Christ  to  guide  vs  with  his  grace. 

[liLlZ.  1'OKIS.J  15 



Declaring  the  uncertaintie  of  our  earthly  honor,  the  certaine 
account  that  ice  must  all  make  of  death;  and  therefore 
that  we  should  make  ourselues  ready  at  all  times,  because 
we  are  ignorant  of  our  latter  howre. 

WHAT  state  so  sure  but  time  subvarts? 
What  pleasure  that  is  voide  of  paine? 
What  cheereful  change  of  former  smarts 

But  turnes  straitvvaie  to  greefe  againe? 
What  credite  may  a  man  repose 

Vppon  so  fraile  a  clod  of  clay, 
Which  as  to-day  in  sollace   goes, 

To-morrow  is  brought  to  earthly  bay  ? 

Thinke,  O  man  ! 

How  thy  glasse  is  daily  sette  to  runne, 
And  how  thy  life  shall  passe  when  it  is  doone: 
Thy  graue  hath  then  thy  glory  wun, 
And  all  thy  pompe  in  cinders  laide  full  lowe. 

Take  example 

By  the  fragrant  flower  in  the  feeld, 
W7hich  as  to-day  in  brauery  is  beheld, 
The  parching  sun  hath  ouer-quel'd. 
O  wretched  man!  euen  thou  thyselfe  art  so. 

How  then  ? 

How  canst  thou  bragge,  or  canst  thou  boast, 
How  that  thou  maiest 
Or  that  thou  shalt 
Enjoy  thy  life  untill  to-morrow  day  ? 

A    DITTIE.  227 

Thou  seest 

That  death  subdues  the  strength  of  kings, 

Of  high  and  lowe, 

Of  rich  and  poore; 

And  all  as  one  he  dooth  call  awaie. 

*  ***** 

To  goe, 
Put  on  your  black  aray;  for  needes  you  must 


Unto  your  house  of  clay : 
Prepare  your  conscience  gay  against  the  dread- 
full  day, 

That  you  may  be 
Christ's  chosen  flocke  and  sheepe, 
Whom  he  will  safely  keepe, 
Whether  you  doo  wake  or  sleepe: 
Then  shall  the  hellish  foe 
Away  in  terror  goe, 
This  joy  to  see. 
Remember  this,  amidst  your  blisse, 

That  Christ  hath  redeemed  vs  by  his  blood. 
Then  let  vs  kill  our  affections  so  ill, 

To  be  elected  in  his  seruants'  good. 
Then  shall  we  be  sure  for  aye  to  endure 
On  God's  right  hand  among  the  pure  ; 
When  as  the  ill  against  their  will 
The  endlesse  paine  shall  passe  untill. 
God  graunt  us  feruent  constancie 
To  auoide  so  great  extremitie, 
That  by  his  grace  continuallie 
We  may  purchase  heauen's  felicitie ! 



Which  sheweth  by  example  of  diners  worthy  personages  past 
in  ancient  time,  that  neither  strength,  wit,  beautie, 
riches,  or  any  transitory  things,  wherein  worldlings  put 
any  confidence,  can  saue  them  from  the  stroke  of  death. 

ADIEW,  my  former  pleasure, 

For  1  of  force  must  leaue  thee : 
I  see  my  state  is  most  unsure, 

And  thou  hast  long  deceiude  me. 
Time  bids  me  minde  my  latter  end, 

And  that  I  am  but  clay; 
And  euerie  hour  1  doo  offend 

In  manie  a  wicked  waie. 

Then  farewell  sinne, 
I  will  beginne 
To  sorrow  for  my  wicked  life  at  the  last, 

And  feare  to  sinne  any  more  ; 
For  when  I  remember  all  that  is  past, 

My  hart  doth  bleede  therefore. 

I  see  that  ualiant  Sampson, 

Who  uaunted  of  his  stature, 
His  strength  hath  failde  and  he  is  gone; 

Time  forst  him  yeeld  to  nature: 
And  all  the  courage  he  possesst 

Amidst  his  flowring  dayes, 
When  death  did  call  him  home  to  rest, 

Did  uade  from  him  straitwaies. 
Then  why  should  I 
On  strength  rely, 
Perceiuing  that  the  stoutest  hart  dooth  obey, 

When  death  dooth  shew  his  power? 
And  so    must   I   needes   (as   all  flesh)  passe 
away ; 

For  strength  is  but  a  flower. 

A     DITTIE.  229 

I  see  that  wise  king  Salomon, 

Whose  wisedome  was  most  excellent, 
Among  the  rest  is  dead  and  gone, 

For  all  his  prudent  gouernment. 
And  what  is  he  that  liueth  now 

In  wisedome  most  profound  ? 
But  death  compelleth  him  to  bow, 

And  brings  him  to  the  ground. 
If  strength  then  faile, 
And  wit  doth  quaile, 
Vnwise  were  I  once  for  to  think  that  I  might 

Escape  the  stroke  of  death; 
And  know  that  there  is  on  the  earth  no  one 

But  must  resign  his  breath. 

I  see  that  faire  young  Absalon, 

Beautie  did  nought  auaile  him  : 
The  welthy  glutton  eke  is  gone, 

His  riches  could  not  vaile  him. 
And  he  that  had  his  barnes  so  thwakt, 

And  bade  his  soul  take  rest, 
In  one  night  from  his  wealth  was  rapt, 

And  so  was  dispossest. 

Thus  see  you  plain, 
It  is  in  vaine 
To  make  anie  certaine  account  of  this  life, 

Or  in  yourselues  to  trust : 
Therefore  make  you  ready  to  part  from  this 

For  to  the  earth  you  must. 



Wherein  the  brevitie  of  man's  life  is  described,  how  soone  his 
pompe  vanisheth  away,  and  he  brought  to  his  latest  home. 

THE  statelie  pine,  whose  braunches  spread  so  faire, 

By  vvinde  or  weather  wasted  is  at  length  ; 
The  sturdie  oake,  that  clymeth  in  the  ayre, 

In  time  dooth  lose  his  beautie  and  his  strength ; 
The  fayrest  flower,  that  florisht  as  to-daie, 
To-morrow  seemeth  like  the  withered  haie. 
So  fare  it  with  the  present  state  of  man, 

Whose  showe  of  healthe  dooth  argue  manie 

yeares : 
But  as  his  life  is  likened  to  a  span, 

So  suddaine  sicknes  pulles  him  from  his  peeres; 
And  where  he  seemde  for  longer  time  to-daie, 
To-morrow  lies  he  as  a  lumpe  of  clay. 
The  infant  yong,  the  milk-white  aged  head, 

The  gallant  youth  that  braueth  with  the  best, 
We  see  with  earth  are  quickly  ouerspreade, 

And  both  alike  brought  to  their  latest  rest : 
As  soone  to  market  commeth  to  be  solde 
The  tender  lambe's  skin  as  the  weather's  olde. 
Death  is  not  partial],  as  the  prouerb  saies ; 

The  prince  and  peasant  both  with  him  are  one: 
The  sweetest  face  that's  painted  now-a-daies, 

And  highest  head  set  forth  with  pearl  and  stone, 
When  he  hath  brought  them  to  the  earthly  graue, 
Beare  no  more  reckoning  then  the  poorest  slaue. 
The  wealthy  chuffe,  that  makes  his  gold  his  god, 

And  scrapes  and  scratches  all  the  mucke  he  may, 
And  with  the  world  doth  play  at  euen  and  od, 

When  death  thinks  good  to  take  him  hence  away, 
Hath  no  more  ritches  in  his  winding-sheete 
Then  the  poore  soule  that  sterued  in  the  streete. 

A    DITTIE.  231 

Vnhappie  man  !  that  runneth  on  thy  race, 

Not  minding  where  thy  crazed  bones  must  rest: 

But  woe  to  thee  that  doost  forget  the  place, 
Purchast  for  thee  to  Hue  amongst  the  blest ! 

Spend  then  thy  life  in  such  a  good  regard, 

That  Christe's  blessing  may  be  thy  reward. 


From  "  The  Complaint  of  Jonas,"  which  forms  a  section 
of  "  The  Mirror  of  Mutabilitie." 

You  therefore  that  remain  on  earth, 

Let  this  your  minde  suffise; 
Feare  still  for  to  displease  the  Lord — 

Be  not  to  worldly  wise. 

Fix  stil  your  minde  on  heauenly  things, 

That  neuer  wil  decay — 
The  rest  are  but  as  shadows  heer, 

And  soone  wil  passe  away. 

What  vantage  is  it  for  a  man 

To  haue  of  riches  store, 
And  for  to  want  the  fear  of  God, 

Which  stil  should  be  before? 

The  more  a  man  doth  fixe  his  minde 

Vpon  that  filthy  drosse, 
The  more  endamaged  is  his  soule 

Vnto  the  vtter  losse. 

For  welth  doth  pamper  him  so  much, 

That  God  is  clene  forgot, 
And  then  at  last  vnto  his  pain 

Vpon  him  falls  the  lot; 


So  that  all  good  and  vertuous  men 
From  company  refuse  him, 

And  where  before  he  was  esteenfd, 
Now  they  disdain  to  vse  him. 

*         *         *         *          *          * 

Turne  vnto  God,  and  God  to  you 
Wil  turn  his  cheerful  face  ; 

Flye  slauish  sloth,  and  then  be  sure 
That  God  will  you  imbrace. 

For  idlenes  is  enemye 
To  goodnes,  as  men  say ; 

Therefore  doo  shun  the  enemye, 
And  on  the  vertue  stay. 

Let  all  that  haue  you  preter-past 

Examples  be  to  you, 
How  you  may  learn  in  all  assayes 

Vile  sin  for  to  eschew. 

And  thus  if  you  direct  your  wayes, 
You  walk  the  path  so  right, 

That  heauen  is  your  inheritance 
In  foyle  of  Sathan's  spight. 



GOE,  soule,  the  bodie's  guest, 
Vpon  a  thanklesse  arrant : 
Feare  not  to  touch  the  best ; 
Thy  truth  shall  be  thy  warrant: 
Goe,  since  I  needs  must  dye, 
And  giue  them  all  the  lye. 

Say  to  the  court,  it  glowes 
And  shines  like  painted  wood ; 
Say  to  the  church,  it  shewes 
What's  good,  but  does  no  good : 
If  court  and  church  reply, 
Then  giue  them  both  the  lye. 

Tell  potentates,  they  Hue 
Acting,  but  oh!  their  actions 
Not  loued  vnless  they  giue ; 
Nor  strong  but  by  affection : 
If  potentates  reply, 
Giue  potentates  the  lye. 

Tell  men  of  high  condition, 
That  manage  the  estate, 
Their  purpose  is  ambition, 
Their  practice  onely  hate ; 
And  if  they  once  reply, 
Then  giue  them  all  the  lye. 

Tell  those  that  braue  it  most, 
They  beg  for  more  by  spending, 


Who  in  their  greatest  cost 
Like  nothing  but  commending; 
And  if  they  make  reply, 
Then  giue  them  all  the  lye. 

Tell  Zeale  it  wants  deuotion  ; 

Tell  Loue  it  is  but  lust ; 

Tell  Time  it  meets  but  motion  ; 

Tell  Flesh  it  is  but  dust: 
And  wish  them  not  reply, 
For  thou  must  giue  the  lye. 

Tell  Age  it  daily  wasteth ; 
Tell  Honour  how  it  alters ; 
Tell  Beauty  how  she  blasteth ; 
Tell  Fauour  how  it  falters : 

And  as  they  shall  reply, 

Giue  euery  one  the  lye. 

Tell  Wit  how  much  it  wrangles 
In  fickle  points  of  nicenesse : 
Tell  Wisdome  she  entangles 
Herself  in  ouerwiseness : 
And  when  they  doe  reply, 
Straight  giue  them  both  the  lye. 

Tell  Physicke  of  her  boldnesse ; 

Tell  Skill  it  is  preuention; 

Tell  Charity  of  coldnesse ; 

Tell  Law  it  is  contention  : 
And  as  they  doe  reply, 
Then  giue  them  still  the  lye. 

Tell  Fortune  of  her  blindnesse ; 

Tell  Nature  of  decay; 

Tell  Friendship  of  vnkindnesse ; 

Tell  Justice  of  delay : 
And  if  they  will  reply, 
Then  giue  them  all  the  lye. 

THE    FAREWELL.  235 

Tell  Arts  they  haue  no  soundnesse, 
But  vary  by  esteeming ; 
Tell  Schooles  they  want  profoundnesse, 
And  stand  so  much  on  seeming : 

If  Arts  and  Schooles  reply, 

Giue  Arts  and  Schooles  the  lye. 
Tell  Faith  it's  fled  the  citie; 
Tell  how  the  Countrey  erreth; 
Tell  Manhood  shakes  off  pitie  ; 
Tell  Vertue  least  preferreth : 

And  if  they  doe  reply, 

Spare  not  to  giue  the  lye. 

So,  when  thou  hast,  as  I 
Commanded  thee,  done  blabbing; 
Because  to  giue  the  lye 
Deserues  no  lesse  than  stabbing ; 

Stab  at  thee  he  that  will, 

No  stab  thy  soule  can  kill. 

GIUE  me  my  scallop-shell  of  quiet, 
My  staffe  of  faith  to  walk  upon, 
My  scrip  of  ioye,  (immortal  diet !) 
My  bottle  of  saluation, 
My  gowne  of  glory,  hope's  true  gage; 
— And  thus  I  take  my  pilgrimage. 
Blood  must  be  my  body's  balmer, 
While  my  soule,  like  peaceful  palmer, 
Travelleth  towards  the  land  of  heauen : 
Other  balm  will  not  be  giuen. 
Over  the  silver  mountains, 
Where  spring  the  nectar-fountains, 
There  will  I  kiss 
The  bowle  of  bliss, 



And  drink  mine  everlasting  fill 
Upon  euery  milken  hill: 
My  soule  will  be  aclry  before, 
But  after  that  will  thirst  no  more. 


(Said  to  have  been  written  the  night  before  his  Execution.) 

EUEN  such  is  Time,  which  takes  on  trust 
Our  youth,  and  ioyes,  and  all  we  haue, 
And  payes  us  but  with  age  and  dust, 
Which  in  the  dark  and  silent  graue, 
When  we  have  wandred  all  our  wayes, 
Shuts  up  the  story  of  our  dayes ; 
And  from  which  earth,  and  graue,  and  dust, 
The  Lord  shall  raise  me  up,  I  trust. 



GOD,  th'  seternal  God,  noe  doubt  is  good  to  the 

Gluing  grace  to  the  pure,  and  mercy  to   Israel 

holy : 
And  yet,  alas !  my  feete,  my  faynte  feet  gan  to  be 

And  I  was  almost  gone  and  fall'n  to  a  dangerous 


For  my  soul  did  grudg,  my  hart  consumed  in  an 
And  myne  eyes  disdayng'd,  when  I  saw  that  such 

men  abounded 
With  wealth,  health,  and  joy,  whose  myndes  with 

myschif  abounded, 
Theyr  body  stowt  and  strong,   theyr  lyms  still 

lyuely  apearing, 
Neyther  feare  any  panges  of  death,  nor  feele  any 

sicknes  : 

Some  still  mourne,  they  laughe :  some  lyue  un 
fortunate  euer, 
They  for  ioy  doe  triumphe,  and  taste  aduersity 

neuer ; 
Which  makes   them   with  pryde,    with   scornful 

pryde  to  be  chayned, 
And  with  blood-thirsting  disdaigne  as  a  roabe  to 

be  cou'red. 



Tush!  say  they,  can  God  from  the  highest  heauens 

to  the  lowest 
Earth  vouchsaulf,  thinck  you,  those  prince-like 

eyes  be  bowing? 
Tis  but  a  vaine  conceipt  of  fooles  to  be  fondly 

Euery   jesting    trick    and    trifling    toy    to    the 

Thundrer : 
For  loe  these  be  the  men  whoe  rule  and   reign 

with  aboundance; 
These,  and   who    but   these?    Why   then,   what 

meane  I  to  lift  up 
Cleane  handes  and  pure  hart  to  the  heu'ns  ?  what 

meane  I  to  offer 
Praise  and  thanksgeuing  to  the  Lord  ?  what  meane 

I  to  suffer 
Such  plagues  with  patience?      Yea,  and  almost 

had  I  spoken 
Euen  as  they  did  speake,  which  thought  noe  God 

to  be  guy  ding. 
But  soe  should  I,  alas!  haue  iudged  thy  folk  to  be 


Thy  sons  forsaken,  thy  saints  vn worthily  haples. 
Thus  did  I   thinck  and  muse,   and  search   what 

might  be  the  matter: 
But  yet  I  could  not,  alas  !  conceaue  so  hidden  a 

Vntil  I   left  myself,    and   all  my   thoughts   did 

And  to  thy  sacred  place,  to  thy  sanctuary,  lastly 

There  did  1  see,  0  Lord,  these  men's  vnfortunate 

endings ; 

Endings  mute,  and  fit  for  their  vngodly  beginnings. 
Then  did  I  see  how  they   did  stand  in  slippery 

PSALM    LXXII.  239 

Lifted  aloft,  that  their  downefalling  might  be  the 

Lyving   Lord,    how   soone   is    this   theyr   glory 

Dasht,  confounded,  gone,  drownd  in  destruction 

endless ! 
Their  fame's  soone  outworne,  theyr  names  extinct 

in  a  moment, 
Lyke  to  a  dreame,  that  lyues  by  a  sleep,   and 

dyes  with  a  slumber. 
— Thus  my  soule  did  greeue,  my  hart  did  languish 

in  anguish ; 
Soe  blynde  were  myne  eyes,  my  minde  soe  plunged 

in  error, 

That  noe  more  than  a  beast  did  I  know  this  mys 
tery  sacred. 
Yet  thou  heldst  my  hande,  and  kepst  my  soule 

from  the  dungeon ; 
Thou  didst  guyde  my  feete,  and  me  with  glory 

For  what  in  heau'n  or  in  earth  shall  I  loue,  or 

woorthyly  wonder, 
But  my  most  good  God,  my  Lord  and  mighty 

Jehova  ? 
Though  my  flesh  oft  faint,  my  hart's  oft  drowned 

in  horror, 

God  neuer  fayleth,  but  will  be  my  mighty  protector. 
Such  as  God  forsake,  and  take  to  a  slippery  com 
Trust  to  a  broken  staffe,  and  taste  of  woorthy  re- 


In  my  God,  therefore,  my  trust  is  wholly  reposed, 
And  his  name  wil  I  praise,  and  sing  his  glory 



JF  in  a  three-square  glasse,  as  thick  as  cleare, 
(Being  but  dark  earth,  though  made  diaphanall) 
Beauties  diuine,  that  rauish,  seme  appeare, 
Making  the  soule  with  ioy  in  trance  to  fall ; 
What  then,  my  soule,  shalt  thou  in  heau'n  behold. 
In  that  cleare  mirror  of  the  TRINITY  ? 
What  though  it  were  not  that  it  could  be  told? 
For  'tis  a  glorious  yet  dark  mistery ! 
It  is  that  which  is  furthest  from  description, 
Whose  beaming  beauty's  more  then  infinite  : 
It's  glorie's  monument,  whose  superscription 
Is,  Here  lies  Light,  alone  indefinite : 

Then,  O  light  limitiesse,  let  me,  poore  me, 
Still  Hue  obscure,  so  I  may  still  see  thee. 


WERE  manne's  thoughts  to  be  measured  by  daies, 
Ten  thousand  thoughts  ten  thousand  daies  should 


Which  in  a  day  the  mynd  doth  daily  raise; 
For  still  the  mind 's  in  motion  like  a  waue : 
Or  should  his  daies  be  measured  by  thought, 
Then  times  shortst  moment  they  would  faster  flee  : 
Yet  thought  doth  make  his  life  both  long  and 

nought — 

That's  nought  if  longe,  and  longe  if  nought  it  bee  ! 
If  longe  it  bee,  for  being  nought,  though  short, 

SONNETS.  241 

The  shortest  thought  of  longe  life  is  too  longe, 
Which  thinkes  it  longe  in  laboure,  short  in  sport; 
So  thought  makes  life  to  be  still  old,  or  yonge: 
But  sith  its  full  of  thought,  sith  full  of  synnes, 
Think  it  may  ende,  as  thought  of  it  beginnes. 


WHILES  in  my  soule  I  feel  the  soft  warme  hand 
Of  grace,  to  thaw  the  frozen  dregs  of  sin, 
She,  angell  arm'd,  on  Eden's  walls  doth  stand, 
To  keep  out  outward  ioyes  that  would  come  in. 
But  when  that  holy  hand  is  tane  away, 
And  that  my  soule  congealeth,  as  before, 
She  outward  comfort  seeks  with  care  each  way, 
And  runs  to  meet  them  at  each  sence's  door. 
Yet  they  but  at  the  first  sight  only  please ; 
They  shrink,  or  breed  abhorr'd  satiety. 
But  diuine  comforts,  far  vnlike  to  these, 
Do  please  the  more,  the  more  they  stay  and  be. 
Then  outward  ioyes  I  inwardly  detest, 
Sith  they  stay  not,  or  stay  but  in  vnrest. 


TRUE  loue  is  Charity  begun  to  be, 
Which  is  when  Loue  beginneth  to  be  true  ; 
But  to  the  high'st  growes  louing  Charity, 
When  she  the  High'st  alone  doth  loue  to  view. 
O  Charity  !  that  euermore  doost  flame 
In  that  dread  Maiestie's  eternall  brest, 
When  by  thy  heate  shall  my  loue  lose  hir  name, 
And  made  to  flame,  like  thee,  in  restlesse  rest  ? 
Well-featured  flesh  too  base  a  subiect  is 
For  sour'raign  loue's  diuine  ay  blest  imbrace : 
The  loue  of  flesh  loues  nought  but  flesh ;  but  this 
Loues  nought  that  sauors  of  a  thing  so  base. 
Then  be  the  priest,  and  as  an  host  Tie  dy, 
Offerd  to  heau'n  in  flames  of  Charity. 

[ELIZ.  POETS.]  16 

242  JOHN    DAVIES. 


THE  ofter  shine,  the  more  griefe,  shewes  a  saint ; 
The  ofter  sinne,  the  less  griefe,  notes  a  fiend : 
But  oft  with  griefe  to  sinne  the  soule  doth  taint'; 
And  oft  to  sinne  with  ioy  the  soule  doth  rend. 
To  sinne  on  hope  is  sinne  most  full  of  feare ; 
To  sinne  of  malice  is  the  diuel's  sinne  : 
One  is  that  Christ  may  greater  burden  beare, 
The  other,  that  his  death  might  still  beginne. 
To  sinne  of  frailtie  is  a  sinne  but  weake  ; 
To  sinne  in  strength  the  stronger  makes  the  blame : 
The  first  the  reed  Christ  bare  hath  powre  to  breake, 
The  last  his  thornie  crowne  can  scarce  vnframe : 

But,  finally,  to  sinne  malitiously, 

Reed,  crowne,  nor  crosse,  hath  power  to  crucifie. 


A  RIGHTEOUS  man  still  feareth  all  his  deeds, 
Lest  done  for  feare  or  in  hypocrisie  : 
Hypocrisie,  as  with  the  corne  doe  weeds, 
Still  growes  vp  with  faith,  hope,  and  charitie. 
But  it  bewraies  they  are  no  hypocrites, 
That  most  of  all  hypocrisie  doe  feare  : 
For  who  are  worst  of  all  in  their  owne  sights, 
In  God's  deere  sight  doe  best  of  all  appeare. 
To  feare  that  we  nor  loue  nor  feare  aright 
Is  no  lesse  perfect  feare,  than  rightest  loue : 
And  to  suspect  our  steps  in  greatest  light 
Doth  argue,  God  our  hearts  and  steps  doth  moue: 
But  right  to  run,  and  feare  no  whit  at  all, 
Presageth  we  are  neere  a  fearefull  fall. 


IN  th'  act  of  sinne  the  guilt  of  conscience 
Doth  spoile  our  sport,  sith  our  soules  fainting 
bleed ; 

SONNETS,  243 

For  that  worme  feeds  vpon  our  inward  sense 
More  than  sinne's  manna  outward  sense  doth  feed : 
But  he  on  whom  God's  glorious  face  doth  shine, 
The  more  his  griefes,  the  more  his  ioyes  abound ; 
For  who  are  drunke  with  diuine  pleasures'  wine 
Can  feele  no  torments  which  the  senses  wound. 
Then  'tis  a  torment  nere  to  be  tormented 
In  vertue's  cause,  nor  for  sinne's  fowle  default : 
And  no  worse  tempting,  than  nere  to  be  tempted  ; 
For  we  must  peace  attaine  by  sinne's  assault. 
Then  blessed  is  the  crosse  that  brings  the  crowne, 
And  glorious  is  the  shame  that  gaines  renowne. 


COULD  he  beginne,  Beginnings  that  began  ? 
If  so  he  could,  what  is  beginninglesse  ? 
Or  Time,  or  Nothing.     That's  vntrue  ;  for  than, 
If  there  were  Time,  it  was  not  motionlesse ; 
For  Time  is  made  by  Motion,  all  confesse : 
But  where  there  Nothing  is,  no  Motion  is  : 
For  Nothing  hath  no  motion,  and  much  lesse 
Can  Nothing  make  of  nothing  Something.    This 
Something  sometime  of  nothing  made  all  is. 

God  euer  was,  and  neuer  was  not  God : 

Not  made  by  Nothing :  nothing  could  him  make. 

Could  Nothing  make  and  not  make  ?  This  is  odde ; 

And  so  is  he  that  could  creation  take 

Of  nothing :  for  all  was,  when  as  he  spake  ; 

Nothing  was  made  that  was  not  made  by  it : 

Then  nothing  was  that  could  it  vndertake ; 

To  make  its  Maker  what  had  povvre  or  wit? 

Not  him  that  can  doe  all  that  he  thinkes  fit. 

Time 's  but  a  moment's  flux,  and  measured 
By  distance  of  two  instants  :  this  we  proue, 


244  JOHN    DAVIES. 

Which  then  commenced,  itselfe  considered, 
When  first  the  orbs  of  heauen  began  to  moue  ; 
That  but  sixe  thousand  yeeres,  not  much  aboue. 
But  what's  so  many  yeeres  as  may  be  cast 
In  thrice  as  many  ages,  to  remoue 
Eternitie  from  being  fixed  fast, 
And  God  therein  from  being  first  and  last. 

He  is  eternall ;  what  is  so,  is  He : 

So  is  no  creature,  for  it  once  was  made  : 

Then  ere  it  could  be  made  it  could  not  be. 

But  the  Creator  euer  beeing  had, 

To  pull  out  from  Not  being :  who  can  wade 

(Beeing  a  deapth  so  infinite  profound) 

But  he  that  was,  and  is,  and  cannot  fade, 

This  Beeing  infinite,  this  deapth  most  sound, 

To  lift  vp  all  to  Beeing,  there  beeing  dround  ? 

Eternity  and  Time  are  opposite  ; 

For  time  no  more  can  bound  eternity, 

Then  Finite  can  invirone  Infinite  ; 

Both  of  both  which  haue  such  repugnancy, 

As  nere  can  stand  with  God's  true  unity : 

Eternity  is  then  produced  from  hence — 

By  ioyning  of  his  sole  Infinite 

With  his  essentiall  intelligence; 

And  all  the  attributes  proceed  from  thence. 

If  then  eternity  doth  bound  this  One, 
Or  rather  he  bounds  all  Eternity, 
How  could  he  bee  ?  or  beeing  all  alone, 
How  could  he  worke,  that  works  vncessantly, 
(For  bee's  all  act  that  acts  continually,) 
Hauing  no  subiect  whereupon  to  worke  ? 
And  beeing  without  his  creatures  vtterly, 
It  seemes  he  must  in  desolation  lurke, 
Which  must  of  force  an  actiue  nature  irke. 

THE    BLESSING    OF    TEMPTATION.        245 


How  neede  the  soule  to  stand  vpon  her  guard, 
And  keep  the  tempter  at  the  sp'rit's  sword  point ! 
Else  pride  will  puffe  her,  sith  so  well  she  far'd, 
Which  swelling  will  runne  downe  from  ioynt  to 


That  she  will  burst,  if  grace  her  not  annoynt. 
This  found  he  true,  that  found  this  true  repast 
In  the  third  heau'n,  as  God  did  fore-appoint : 
Yet  must  he  buifets  with  such  banquets  taste, 
Lest  he  should  be  puft  vp,  and  so  disgrac'd. 

For  our  soule's  foe  extracts  ill  out  of  good, 

As  our  soule's  friend  doth  draw  good  out  of  ill. 

The  foe  can  foile,  if  he  be  not  withstood, 

With  pride  our  piety  and  our  good-will. 

But  our  best  friend,  though  we  offend  him  still, 

From  these  offences  drawes  humilitie ; 

Which  makes  vs  crouch,  and  kneele,  and  pray, 


He  doth  commiserate  our  misery : 
This  doth  our  friend,  vnlike  our  enemie. 

The  soule  cannot  her  fondnesse  more  bewray, 

Then  when  she  doth  temptations  strong  resist : 

For  like  as  when  our  pulses  strongly  play, 

We  know  we  neede  not  then  a  Galenist; 

So  when  the  soule  doth  paint,  striue,  and  persist 

In  strugling  with  temptations,  then  we  kno 

That  soule  with  perfect  health  is  truly  blest : 

For  she  by  demonstration  it  doth  sho ; 

And  blest  are  all  those  soules  that  striueth  so. 

246  JOHN    DAVIES. 


SITH  God  is  euer  changlesse  as  hee's  good, 

We  vvormes  most  mutable  in  spight  of  change 

May  euer  stand  in  him  that  euer  stood, 

13y  faith,  and  hope,  and  love ;  and  neuer  range 

But  when  through  him  we  go  to  places  strange. 

And  though  by  nature  mutable  we  be, 

Yet  may  his  grace  from  vs  that  state  estrange, 

And  match  vs  to  immutability 

In  the  bride-chamber  of  feliecity. 

Hee's  true  of  promise,  sith  he  cannot  change; 
Then  why  should  sorrowing  synners  feare  to  dye? 
Since  earth's  familiars  are  to  heauen  strange, 
Then  heauen  we  cannot  haue  while  here  we  lye. 
And  he  that's  free  from  all  vncertainty 
Hath  in  his  euer  neuer-failing  word 
Giu'n  vs  by  deede,  with  his  bloud  seald,  an  hie 
And  heauenly  mantion,  which  he  doth  atlbrd 
To  all  whose  wills  do  with  his  will  accord. 

The  euer-liuing  God,  sole  Lord  of  life, 

He  was  and  is  from  all  eternity : 

If  he  be  such  a  husband,  shall  his  wife, 

Or  any  member  of  her,  fear  to  dye 

In  him  with  whom  is  immortality  ? 

Hee's  life  itselfe  ;  then  of  himself  he  moues, 

And  all  his  members  moues  immediately 

To  rest  in  him  :  the  rest  from  him  he  'moues: 

So  all'moues  by  him  which  he  hates  or  loues. 

GREATNESS    OF    DIVINE    MERCY.         247 


How  far  that  mercy  reacheth,  erst  we  toucht: 
Then  needlesse  were  it  eft  to  handle  it : 
As  pow'rfull  as  himselfe  we  it  auoucht, 
And  hee's  omnipotent:  then,  if  it  fit 
His  pow'r,  it  is  at  least  most  infinit ! 
Which  attribute  of  his  Omnipotence, 
That  most  is  mentioned  in  holy  writ, 
Is  the  firm  pillar  of  our  confidence, 
Sith  it  to  grace  hath  euer  reference. 

Almightinesse  includeth  whatsoere 
That  is  most  absolutlie  good  or  great: 
Then  its  the  prop  that  all  in  all  doth  beare  ; 
More  then  most  actiue  in  each  glorious  feate., 
Which  by  still  actiue  good  doth  ill  defeate. 
Though  it  seemd  passiue  when  in  flesh  'twas  shown, 
Yet  in  the  flesh  that  passion  had  her  seate : 
God's  a  pure  act,  which  ne're  was  passiue  known, 
Who  made  that  flesh  he  tooke,  and  held  his  owne. 


THIS  wondrous  Trinity  in  Vnity 

Is  vnderstood  to  bee:  but  how?  And  here 

Is  such  a  gulph  of  deepest  mistery 

As  none,  without  bee'ng  quite  orewhelmd  with  fear, 

Can  looke  therein  to  tell  the  secrets  there ! 

For  what  beseeming  that  good  evriething 

Can  we  imagin,  though  we  angels  were? 

That  is  as  farre  past  all  imagining 

As  we  are  short  of  paceing  with  his  wing. 

248  JOHN    DAVIES. 

We  erre  in  nought  with  danger  more  extreame, 
Nor  in  ought  labour  with  more  hard  assay; 
Yet  nought  we  know  with  more  hart's  ioy  than 

them  : 

But  in  their  search,  if  once  we  lose  our  way, 
We  may  be  lost  and  vtterly  decay : 
Its  deadly  dangerous  then  for  them  to  looke 
Through  waies  more  sullen  then  the  foe  of  day, 
Without  Faith's  lanthorne,  Truth's  most  blessed 

Which  none  ere  left,  but  straight  the  way  forsooke. 

For  Justice'   Sonne  was  sent  by  Grace  his  sire 
The  gospell  to  promulgate  from  his  brest, 
His  councels  to  disclose,  our  doubts  to  chere : 
Then  if  we  go  to  seeke  this  Beeing  blest 
Without  these  helpes,  we  strayeng  neuer  rest. 


BUT  yet  the  good  which  we  by  sinne  receaue 
Doth  farre  surmount  the  ill  that  comes  from  thence. 
If  God  the  world  of  ill  should  quite  bereaue, 
There  were  no  test  to  try  our  sapience  ; 
So  might  want  reason  and  intelligence  : 
But  we  haue  both,  to  know  the  good  from  bad; 
So  know  we  God,  and  our  soule's  safe  defence : 
Then  since  by  ill  we  are  so  well  bestad, 
We  cannot  greeue  for  ill,  but  must  be  glad. 

For  were  there  no  temptation,  then  no  fight ; 
And  if  no  fight,  no  victory  could  be : 
No  victory,  no  palmes  nor  vertues  white; 
No  crosse,  no  crowne  of  immortality : 
And  thus  from  ill  comes  good  abundantly: 


For  by  the  conquest  of  it  we  are  crown'd 
With  glory  in  secure  felicity. 
So  from  great  ills  more  goods  to  vs  redound, 
As  oft  most  sicknesse  maketh  vs  most  sound. 

Ill,  like  a  mole  vpon  the  world's  faire  cheeke, 
Doth  stil  set  forth  that  fairenes  much  the  more: 
She  were  to  seeke  much  good  were  ill  to  seeke, 
For  good  by  ill  increaseth  strength  and  store, 
At  least  in  our  conceit,  and  vertuous  lore. 
There's  nought  so  euill  that  is  good  for  nought : 
God  giuing  vs  a  salue  for  ev'ry  sore, 
The  good  are  humbled  by  their  euil'st  thought: 
So  to  the  good  al's  good  that  ill  hath  wrought. 


(Matt.  v.  7.) 

WHAT  wit  hath  man  to  leaue  that  wealth  behind, 
Which  he  might  carry  hence  when  hence  he  goes  ? 
What  almes  he  giues  aliue,  he,  dead,  doth  find; 
But  what  he  leaues  behind  him,  he  doth  lose. 
To  giue  away  then  is  to  beare  away ; 
They  most  do  hold  who  haue  the  openest  hands  : 
To  hold  too  hard  makes  much  the  lesse  to  stay ; 
Though  stay  there  may  more  then  the  hand  com 

The  beggar's  belly  is  the  batful'st  ground 
That  we  can  sow  in;  for  it  multiplies 
Our  faith  and  hope,  and  makes  our  loue  abound, 
And  what  else  grace  and  nature  deerely  prize  : 
So  thus  may  kings  be  richer  in  their  graue 
Then  on  their  thrones,  though  all  the  world 
they  haue. 




From  "  Christ's  Crosse,  containing  Christ  Crucified,  described 
in  speaking  picture." 

(The  author,  having  described  the  agony  of  our  Lord,  thus 
proceeds  to  address  Nature.) 

O  NATURE,  carefull  mother  of  vs  all, 
How  canst  thou  liue  to  see  thy  God  thus  die? 
Io  heare  his  paines,  thus,  thus  for  pittie  call,  ' 
And  yet  to  find  no  grace  in  pittie's  eie! 

Iny  frame,  deere  Nature,  should  be  quite  dis- 
solu  d, 

Or  thy  whole  powers  into  teares  resolu'd. 
His  anguish  hauing  this  in  silence  said, 
bee  now  how  he  sore  labours  for  the  last : 
Ihe  last  deneere  of  sinne's  debt  being  defraid 
It  now  remains  that  Death  the  reckning  cast' 
-But  heauy  Death,  because  the  summe  £  great 

akes  yet  some  longer  time  to  doe  the  feat. 
But  now,  my  soule,  here  let  vs  make  a  station 

J  view  perspicuously  this  sad  aspect- 
And  through  the  Jacob's  staffe  of  Christ  his  passion 
Lets  spie  with  our  right  eie  his  paines'  effect- 
lhat  m  the  lab'rinth  of  his  languishment 

e  may,  though  lost  therein,  find  solagement. 
The  mind,  still  crost  with  heart-tormenting  crosses, 
rere  finds  a  crosse  to  keepe  such  crosses  out- 
Here  may  the  loser  find  more  than  his  losses,' 
If  Faith  beleeue  what  here  Faith  cannot  doubt  • 
tor  all  his  wounds  with  voice  vociferant 
trie  out  they  can  more  than  supply  each  want. 
This  holy  crosse  is  the  true  Tutament, 
Protecting  all  ensheltered  by  the  same; 

STANZAS   FROM   "  CHRIST^S  CROSS."       251 

And  though  Disaster's  face  be  truculent, 
Yet  will  this  engine  set  it  fair  in  frame  : 
This  is  the  feeble  soule's  nere-failing  crouch, 
And  grieued  bodies  hard  but  vvholesom'st  couch. 

Looke  on  this  crosse,  when  thou  art  stung  with 


It  cures  forthwith  like  Moises'  metl'd  snake: 
What  can  afflict  thee  when  thy  passions  are 
Pattern'd  by  his,  that  paines  perfections  make  ? 
Wilt  be  so  God-vnlike,  to  see  thy  God 
Embrace  the  whip,  and  thou  abhorre  the  rod  ? 

See,  see,  the  more  than  all  soule-slaying  paines, 
Which  more  than  all  for  thee  and  all  he  prou'd : 
What  man,  except  a  God  he  be,  sustaines 
Such  hels  of  paine  for  man  with  mind  unmou'd  ? 
What  part,  as  erst  was  said,  of  all  his  parts, 
But  tortur'd  is  with  smarts,  exceeding  smarts  ? 

His  vaines  and  nerues,  that  channelize  his  blood, 

By  violent  conuulsions  all  confracted ; 

His  bones  and  ioynts,  from  whence  they  whilome 

With  rackings  quite  disloked  and  distracted: 
His  head,  hands,  feet,  yea,  all  from  top  to  toe, 
Make  but  the  imperfect  corpse  of  perfect  woe. 

0  that  mine  head  were  head  of  seau'nfold  Nyle, 
That  from  the  same  might  flowe  great  floods  of 


Therein  to  bathe  his  bloodlesse  body,  while 
His  blood  effuz'd,  in  sight  confuz'd  appeares  ! 
Then  should  my  teares  egelidate  his  gore, 
That    from   his    blood  founts   for  me   flow'd 

0  burning  loue  !  O  large  and  lasting  loue ! 
What  angel's  tongue  thy  limits  can  describe? 



That  dost  extend  thyself  all  loue  aboue, 

For  which  all  praise  loue  ought  to  thee  ascribe  : 
Sith  skarce  the  tongue  of  God's  humanitie 
Can  well  describe  this  boundlesse  charitie. 

Why  do  I  Hue  ?  alas,  why  do  I  Hue  ? 

Why  is  not  my  heart  loue-sicke  to  the  death  ? 

But  shall  I  Hue  my  louing  Lord  to  grieue  ? 

O  no  !  O  rather  let  me  lose  my  breath  : 

Then  take  me  to  thee,  Loue ;  O  let  me  die, 
Onely  but  for  thy  loue,  and  sinne  to  flie. 

Stay  me  with  flagons ;  with  fruit  comfort  me  ; 

Now  I  am  sicke,  heart- sicke  of  sweetest  loue  : 

Then  let  me  Hue,  sweet  Loue,  alone  in  thee, 

For  loue  desires  in  that  Belou'd  to  moue  : 
I  Hue  and  moue  in  thee,  but  yet,  O  yet, 
I  Hue  to  mone ;  that  is,  to  make  thee  fret. 

O  let  the  summe  of  all  be  all,  and  some, 
Comprised  in  thy  heau'n-surmounting  praise  : 
Thou  wast,  and  art,  and  shalt  be  aye  to  come, 
The  subiect  of  thy  subiects'  thankfull  laies ; 
Who  with  aduanced  voice  doe  carroll  forth 
The  praise  of  thine  inestimable  worth. 

And  sith  thy  soule  for  me  is  so  conflicted, 
My  soule  to  thee  in  griefes  shall  be  affected : 
And,  for  thy  flesh  through  loue  is  so  afflicted, 
My  flesh  for  thy  high  loue  shall  be  deiected : 

Soule,  flesh,  and  spirit,  for  thy  spirit,  flesh,  and 

Shall  longing  pine  in  flesh-repining  dole. 
Mine  onely  schoole  shall  be  mount  Caluerie ; 
The  pulpit  but  the  crosse ;  and  teacher  none, 
But  the  mere  crucifixe  to  mortifie  ; 
No  letters  but  thv  blessed  wounds  alone  : 

No  commaes  but  thy  stripes ;  no  periods 
But  thy  nailes,  crowne  of  thornes,  speare,  whips, 
and  rods. 

None  other  booke  but  thy  vnclasped  side, 
Wherein's  contain'd  all  skils  angelical : 
None  other  lesson  but  Christ  crucified 
Will  I  ere  learne ;  for  that  is  all  in  all : 
Wherein  selfe  curiositie  may  find 
Matter  to  please  the  most  displeased  mind. 

Here,  by  our  Master's  nakednesse,  we  learne 
What  weeds  to  weare ;  by  his  thorne -crowned  head, 
How  to  adorn  vs ;  and  we  may  discerne 
By  his  most  bitter  gall,  how  to  be  fed : 

How  to  reuenge,  by  praying  for  his  foes ; 

And,  lying  on  his  crosse,  how  to  repose. 

For  when  we  read  him  ouer,  see  we  shall 
His  head  with  thornes,  his  eares  with  blasphemies, 
His  eies  with  teares,  his  honnied  mouth  with  gall, 
With  wounds  his  flesh,  his  bones  with  agonies, 
All  full :  and  yet  with  all  to  heare  him  say, 
So  man  might  Hue,  he  would  thus  languish  aye! 


Now  hath  the  great  Creator,  for  man's  sake, 

The  second  Adam  cast  into  a  sleepe  : 

Whiles  of  his  heart-blood  hee  his    spouse   doth 

For  whom  his  heart  doth  blood  and  water  weepe  : 

Which  compound  teares  are  turn'd  to  ioy  intire; 

For  his  heart-blood  effects  his  heart's  desire. 

Which  deere  desire  was  our  deere  spouse  to  haue, 
To  be  co-partner  of  his  griefes  and  ioyes ; 

254  JOHN    DAVIES. 

Which  when  he  wooke  his  God  vnto  him  gaue, 
To  comfort  him  in  comforts  and  annoies  ; 

Which  when  he  saw,  he  held  (most  faire  to  se  !) 
Flesh  of  his  flesh,  bone  of  his  bones,  to  be  ! 
Now  hath  the  monster,  flesh-devouring  Death, 
Got  him  within  his  bowels  :  but  though  dead, 
Looke  how  a  woman  groaning  languisheth 
In  childbirth  till  shee  be  delivered  : 

So  groaneth  Death,  who  trauelleth  in  paine, 
Till  of  his  charge  he  be  discharg'd  again. 
*  *  *  *  « 

0  !  that  all  spirits  of  high  intelligence, 

By  royall  armies,  would  themselues  immure 
In  my  blunt  braines ;  that  by  their  confluence 

1  might  expresse  with  nectar'd  phrases  pure 

The  praise  that  to  this  passion  right  pertaines, 
Whose  sacred  vertue  sacred  vertue  staines ! 
The  vertue  of  this  passion  is  of  pow'r 
Reuenges  red  to  change  to  mercies  white  : 
This  passion's  vertue  is  so  passing  pure, 
That  fowle  to  faire  it  turnes,  and  darke  to  light : 
The  landmarke  to  true  rest,  when  troubles  tosse 
In  sorrowes'  seas,  is  Christ  vpon  the  crosse. 

Ye  vnconfused  orders  angellick, 
In  order  come  to  take  this  blood  effuz'd. 
Bring  forth  celestiall  bowles,  with  motion  quick, 
To  which  this  pretious  blood  may  be  infuz'd  : 
Let  not  one  drop  be  lost  of  such  rare  blood, 
That  makes  men  passing  bad  exceeding  good. 

Couer  this  Aqua  uita  with  your  wings 
From  touch  of  infidels  and  Jewes  prophane  : 
They  haue  no  interest  in  this  King  of  kings, 
Whose  blood  they  suck'd,  which  blood  will  be 
their  bane : 

THE    DEATH    OF    CHRIST.  255 

Make  much  thereof,  sith  but  the  least  drop  of  it 

Is  worth  ten  thousand  worlds  for  price  and  profit. 
Yet  let  poore-spirited  conuerts  drinke  their  fill, 
And  swill  their  drie  soules  till  with  it  they  swell : 
Such  diuine  surfetting  is  wholesome  still  ; 
For  noysome  humors  it  doth  quite  expell. 

Yea,  though  with  griefe  they  swell  and  breake 
with  paine, 

Such  griefe  brings  ioy,  and  makes  them  whole 

The  elephants  of  yore,  inur'd  to  warre, 
Before  the  fight  some  blood  were  vsed  to  see, 
Which  them  incenst,  the  more  to  make  them  dare : 
Then  if  a  beast  shall  not  our  better  be, 

Sith  Christ  wee  see  quite  drown'd  thus  in  his 

We  must  endure  the  racke  as  he  the  rood. 
Fine  founts  he  opens,  whence  doe  gushing  flow 
Red  seas  to  drowne  our  blacke  Egyptian  sinnes, 
That  they  no  more  may  seeke  our  ouerthrow  : 
Then  should  we  goe,  like  Israeli's  denizens, 

Through  wasts  of  woes,  orethrowing  eu'ry  let, 

Till  we  into  the  Land  of  Promise  get. 



THE  office  of  the  minde  is  to  haue  power 

Uppon  the  bodye,  and  to  order  well 

The  body's  office  yeke  in  euery  hovver: 

It  is  of  the  minde  to  lerne  the  perfite  skyll, 

The  vayne  desyers  that  rise  him  by  to  kill, 

Wherby  the  mynde  dothe  kepe  his  perfite  strength, 

And  yeke  the  bodye  vanquishe  loste  at  length. 

Now  where  the  minde  is  drowned  with  desyre 
Of  suche  delyhtis  as  to  the  body  longe, 
The  boddy  then  moste  ncaes  consume  with  fyer 
Of  raging  lustes  a  boute  th"  ?  n^  thronge ; 
So  that  the  minde  is  cause  of  bothe  ther  wronge, 
To  put  it  selfe  out  of  the  proper  place, 
And  bring  the  bodye  to  so  euel  a  case. 

For  thus  the  minde,  that  oughte  of  righte  to  be 
The  teacher  of  the  bodye  to  do  well, 
Doth  make  the  same  to  euery  euill  agre, 
Procuringe  that  it  shoulde  of  right  expell, 
Wherby  in  bothe  a  mouinge  blinde  doth  dwell; 
Euen  as  within  Narcyssus  dyd  remayne. 
That  through  his  shadowe  to  be  soche  agayne. 

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